Numb
by BlueIsTheColourOfOurPlanet
Summary: Al was dead. That was the last thing Edward Elric registered before he went numb. He didn't faint, he just went numb. Stopped feeling, stopped realising, stopped responding to the world. Just Numb.- One of these storys were Al is dead and Ed tries to cope and Mustang tries to light up a new fire in Edward's eyes. Parental/friendship. Not to be read when you're depressive already ;)
1. Prologue

**So...now I am one of those heartless authors who kill poor Alphonse and torture Edward for a story. I feel bad, but not to bad ;-)**

**Prologue**

They had it. A stone. A red, gleaming philosophers stone. And they used it. Edward wanted Alphonse to have his body back first. How he now wished he had given in to Alphonse insisting that they should first restore his arm and leg. How could he have been so stupid, not to remember what had happened when he didn't listen to Alphonse the last time they drew this circle? But he insisted that Alphonse was more important. And Alphonse was more important. Now Alphonse is dead.

The stone, the red, gleaming stone was a fake.

Good enough to pass through as the real thing, when they tested it on various transmutations. But when it was set to work in the final, ultimate transmutation, to reach their goal, it failed. It failed and brought back a body as deformed and damaged and_ wrong_ as their first attempt on human transmutation. The only difference was that Ed didn't have to pay for it with a leg. Though he wished he had to, because he deserved it. He caused Alphonse to die a horrible death and remained unharmed. What sick joke of equivalent exchange was that? He was about to give his other arm, to force Alphonse's soul back in the armour for a second chance, a new hunt for the stone. But the barely living pile of malformed organs in the middle of the transmutationcircle spoke "_No._"

He stared at it, eyes wide, tears running. "Al, just wait a second and we'll have a second chance, okay, just wait I'll make it good again, just a second...", started rambling as he made it's way to the remnants of the armour, that lay next to the mutilated flesh.

"No." A hand without skin closed over his. "No. Let...me..go. I see...mom. Live on..for me."

"But, but,Al, I can't, not without you...It's...I can't...No...Impossible...I..."

"Live. Help people. We'll...wait...for you...to come after...a...long...happy...life...love you."

And the visible lung stopped breathing. And the pulsing heart,_ Al always had such a big heart,_ stopped it's beating.

That was the last thing Edward Elric registered before he went numb. He didn't faint, he just went numb. Stopped feeling, stopped realising, stopped responding to the world. Just Numb.


	2. Chapter 1 Numb

**Chapter 1 **

**Numb**

He was at a place that hurt. It hurt because this was the place were he would have gone to live their happy ever after. Not to live alone. Well he wasn't really alone, Winry was there and Pinako. But no Al. He had no right to live in this wonderful, beautiful, little town. He had left it and he had sworn not to come back until after he had fixed Al. But here he was. Without Al. It just _hurt_.

But Winry wanted him here, she thought it was good. So he stayed. He didn't want her to cry. And as long as he stayed numb it was really okay. Numbness was the best thing that had ever happened to him, really. He didn't need to think, he just needed to be. Let his head feel pleasantly light. Yes, he could live like that. After all Al had told him to live. And if he had learned one thing, it was, that Alphonse was the one of them who would make the right decisions. He had definitely learned that, it was branded into his brain, together with the memory of that _body_. To late, though. He had learned to late, Al was dead,. He couldn't speak an opinion for Ed to listen to, any more. Now Ed would always be nothing but a failure, a compass that pointed south, because the magnet that pulled the small arrow in the right direction was gone. But if he stayed numb he couldn't feel it. If he stayed numb he wouldn't get stupid ideas again.

He went through the day, doing what Winry and Pinako told him. Making them happy was the last thing he could do. His only goal that managed it's way through the numbness. So he got out of bed when they called him, ate his food when they put it in front of him, did the chores they asked him to do, listened when they spoke about things, and sat quietly on his bed in between, so he wouldn't be a bother when they didn't need him. He didn't know how long this has been going on, before one day Pinako told him that Colonel Mustang would come over because Ed couldn't just vanish from the military. If he wanted to leave it he would need to work through the discharge process, and if he wanted to stay he needed to give a report really fast before he was declared AWOL and got a court martial. He simply nodded at her, the information not really getting through, just the name did. Mustang.

It was wired, to hear that name after what seems like forever to him. He had gone so numb that all his memories of his journey had become something ghostlike, that Mustang had become something ghostlike. In the first second he actually didn't know who Pinako was talking about, before the pictures flashed trough his mind. A blue clad figure, standing, looking out of the window behind a desk, the same person sitting behind that same desk, resting elbows on the wooden surface, a chin on interlaced fingers, black hair, black, piercing eyes, an unnerving smirk, an annoyed frown, a hand passing over files, passing over missions, passing over leads on the stone.

He felt anger rising within him but extinguished it immediately. He wanted to stay numb and he knew it wasn't Mustangs fault. If the Colonel had known, that the stone would be fake and work out wrong, then he wouldn't have passed on the lead. Ed was sure of that, he had never known what exactly he was to Mustang, and especially now he couldn't care less, but he at least knew that Mustang wouldn't waste a valuable dog.

Ed would make the man happy and do the paperwork needed to retire, and then he would leave him behind, leave him be in memories. Memories of a past that was so very unnecessary because it would have been preventable if he had just listened to Al and never activated that circle. He clutched his head and forced it to stop thinking.

* * *

Pinako watched with a pained expression. She didn't like the military dogs, but she prayed to whatever higher being there was, that that particular soldier would maybe manage to get Edward back on his feet a second time.

* * *

Edward was called down to the living room, so he came down. He was asked to sit on the couch, so he sat. Winry next to him sighed. She did that a lot around him lately, but he was only determined not to make her cry, so he didn't think bout it.

"Do you want something to drink?", she asked everyone in a tired voice.

Ed wanted nothing but Al so he kept quiet like he always did when he was asked something like this.

"Some coffee, please.", said someone else though. Should he bother to identify the voice? It was so familiar, so...important. He looked up. Black eyes, watching him above interlaced fingers. There was no desk, the elbows were resting on his knees, but it was Mustang, no doubt. Ah, yes, Pinako had said something about him coming by because Ed needed to fill out papers if he wanted to stay here. Did he want that? No, the place hurt. But it made Winry happy. And he didn't have any goal. And Mustang would not want a dog that did neither bark nor bite anymore. Though the Colonel would probably appreciate the lack of resistance against orders. The thought almost made him snort. But that might endanger his numbness. So he stuck to the plan. Sign papers and forget, stay in this place and make Winry happy. He grabbed the pen on the coffeetable.

"Straight to the point, I see, Fullmetal"

He was so used to Winry and Pinako speaking to him in low voices, careful and afraid of upsetting him, and of course laced with their own sadness, that this almost arrogant, this slightly mocking everyday tone of Mustang almost made him react. But he caught himself. With the surprise gone Mustangs words and tone stopped bothering him.

"Don't worry, we'll get this done if you want to, we're not _short_ on _time, _after all_._"

No. No surprise, no reaction. That joke was a classic one, put away with the rest of the memories and no longer thought of. He drowned the colonel out and just stared at the pen.

He found it okay to react to the others again when Mustang laid the papers in front of him. He waited for the instruction of where he had to sign.

"Do you want to stay here or do you want to stay with the military?", Mustang asked, his tone clipped, like the tone of someone who found, that the person he talked to wouldn't listen to flowery words anyway. Why did Mustang have to ask a question? Couldn't he just tell Ed to sign? He didn't want to make a decision. If he did what he wanted, his decision would be wrong again, because he didn't want to stay in this place that hurt him. But it would make Winry cry if he left, so he had to do the right thing and not hurt someone else.

He hadn't used his voice since he tried to explain Al that he couldn't be without him, so he just pointed at some papers.

"So you want to come back to central with us?", no emotions in the voice that might influence his decision, just a plain question to make sure of it.

Edwards hand started shaking. Yes, that was what he wanted, but not what was right! He thought _all_ of those papers were for him to leave the military, why were there some for him to stay? He tried to shake his head or pull his fingers back, but it just wouldn't work.

"Look me in the eye."

He did, like he now always did what he was asked. Mustang stared into his eyes for a while, reading him, while the colonel himself remained unreadable.

"I can't see fire in your eyes. But I need fire to work with. And this is no alchemical pun." Mustang gathered the papers Ed was still pointing his shaking finger at and stuffed them back in his briefcase. "You can come to sign those once you found your fire again. Until then I recommend you stay here.", he shoved the remaining papers in front of Ed.

Ed knew it was a test. The colonel wanted him to defend the decision he seemingly made, to fight for it, to _react_. And how he wanted to, but he _couldn't_, he had to do something right, at least once! So he signed the papers left on the table, signed his fate. He couldn't tell just how long everybody just sat there and stared at his signature on the paper, before those same hands that he had seen shoving documents over to him so often, took the documents away from him.

"Your watch." Did the voice sound defeated? Did he care? No, he'd done the right thing.

He stood and went to get the silver thing. He fetched it from where Winry had put it on the unused desk in his room. He closed his hand around it. His thump moved over the familiar surface. Should he open it one last time? The lid snapped open. He read the date, the warning. He felt the despair, because he _had_ forgotten. Had forgotten, that Al was the one who was right when it came to things like these. And so Al had to pay a second time. Edward was stupid.

He closed the watch, clutched it so hard, his knuckles went white. Then he relaxed. Mustang would take that thing away from him in a minute. And he would take with him all the memories. Edward would stay alive because Al wanted it and he would stay here so Winry wouldn't cry. And he'd forget anything not necessary to full fill this task. He'd go numb, so he'd bother no one to much, himself included. So he went downstairs again, sat onto the same spot on the couch again, and held out the silver memory. And Mustang took it away.

The Colonel stood and made to leave. "Good bye Edward." He looked into the boys eyes one last time, then turned to the door. He didn't sound sad, just disappointed when he said: "I always hoped, that I'd shake a flesh hand when I had to say this."

Ed waited for a while, but neither Pinako nor Winry seemed to want him to do something, so he retreated to his room. He sat on his bed and for some reason looked out of the window. He could see Mustang walking away in the distance. A second blue clad figure was with him. Hawkeye. Had she been in the living room, too? He didn't know. All he could think about was that Hawkeye always was at the Colonel's site. Like Al used to be at his.

He buried himself in his mattress, forced the thoughts away. Not to kill himself and not make Winry cry, those were the only things he was allowed to ponder about from now on. Nothing else. His eyes went dull.


	3. Chapter 2 A piece of the office

**Chapter 2 **

**A piece of the office**

Winry and Pinako started to give him more chores and keep him permanently busy, but he realised that only dimly. If it made them happy when he worked, so be it. Lately though they stopped with it. They stopped permanently talking to him, too. He couldn't say what he thought about that. He just realised it on the edges of his conciousness. Maybe it was because his opinions outweighed one another. One side of him was happy that he could just stay in his room, and not interact to much with this hurtful place, the other side said that he should make Winry happy, and therefore maybe should respond to her somehow. It was a draw, so in the end he couldn't decide and just thought nothing.

Pinako called him to come downstairs. He got up from his bed and did so. When he came to a stop in front of her, she held out something he hadn't received in ages, it seemed. A letter.

"Seems like those dogs still want something from you.", she said.

He took the letter and went over to the couch. He sat down and just stared at it for a while. It looked official. It looked like it was from the military. Should he even bother to open it? But then, maybe it contained something that would end his right decision to stay here with the Rockbells if he didn't answer it. So he opened it up, awkwardly pulling at the envelope because he just didn't think about getting a paper knife. Finally he had the papers within free. They fell into his lap and he randomly grabbed one. It showed an array, a rather complex one. DO NOT ACTIVATE was written in thick red letters above it._ Read note_, was added per hand in smaller letters. Note. That had to be the paper that looked not official at all and was stuffed between the array and a military file. He stared at the handwriting. It was without any unnecessary flourish, but somehow still looked very elegant. It read:

_You probably throw this away the second you see it's from the military, but considering how much paper they waste on other useless documents every day, I decided to try and send this letter anyway. The array I send along was found on a very ugly crime scene. We're not sure about how much of the scene was caused by the array itself, so DON'T activate it. Neither myself nor any other state alchemist (or normal alchemist we've asked so far) has got a clue about where the array comes from, and what exactly it does. That's why we request your help. The military paper that's with this letter basically just tells you the same in official words and contains the thanks of the state, some information about how much money you can make with this, and other stuff the paper pushers think is important. We just hope you might be able to teach us old dogs something new. _

_Hawkeye, Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fury currently yell at me to send you their greetings. They wish you the best._

_I wish you some fire._

_Sincerely, _

_Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, Bastard_

Edward stared at the words. They awakened memories he thought were gone, but obviously he hadn't deleted or buried them good enough. And surprisingly they didn't hurt so much. They were actually kind of fun. Four male subordinates, all very different but still the same when they acted like idiot's. And they did that a lot. They would yell around, and tell stupid stories, and then the only women in the team would yell around, too, to get them back on the ground and to work. Afterwards she'd smile an almost invisible smile, showing she wasn't really angry. And the fifth male, the head of he chaos, would sit and watch, smirking, or occasionally actively participate in the madness. Those we're the scenes Edward marched into, when he entered the office without knocking. He'd start a new sort of yelling. Greetings. Then he'd march to the man who waited for his own special greeting. Only Ed could get away with calling him that. And now Ed could see why. The _Bastard_ had actually realised that he was called like that with some kind of affection. So he accepted it, even going so far as to give Ed permission, putting the word along with his name. What did that mean? What did the whole ending of the letter mean? Did they actually _miss_ him? He couldn't imagine that. He was just another dog after all, who only barged in their office for complaints and to receive a new mission or a lead.

It started to hurt again. He could feel, that he was not supposed to be here in small, peaceful Resembool. This was the place he had reserved for the day when he had accomplished his goal and restored Al. And that office was the place where he'd always come back to until that day, the place where he'd get the leads, the place where everyone knew about his purpose and helped him. And he wanted to go back there, wanted a new purpose, because he was not supposed to live his life here in Resembool, without having earned it.

But leaving Winry wasn't right. She wanted him here to look after him, so he'd stay. But it couldn't be to bad to think about that array and answer the letter right? He was still here, he'd just grab onto a small piece of that office for a moment, to ease the pain a bit.

So he took the paper with the array into both hands and allowed his mind to wander, to analyse, to remember, to do everything needed to find something helpful about an array like this. And it felt good. He even skimmed the description of the crime scene, that the official document from the military held. After a while he was lying on his back, the paper with the array on his chest, and arrays and books and references to ancient alchemists rushing around in his head. He dimly thought that he felt like an almost dry alcoholic who just got his hands on a glass of the finest liquor of the world.

Finally his brain uncovered some information, remembered some sentences and a picture in a book, ages old, but he had read it once because it was said to hold information about forming human flesh. It was an old array, related to human transmutation, maybe the reason why other alchemist didn't knew about it. They were to afraid, and to smart to get near human transmutation. He remembered the title and the author of the book, he needed paper and a pen to tell Mustang. So for the first time in a long time he went to use his desk.

He sat down, took a sheet of paper and his pen. He fumbled with the tip of it, to make the dried up ink go away so it would write again. Finally the ink started to wet his finger, so he pulled away, and held the pen above the paper. How should he write this? Just scribble down the information? Add some greetings? He couldn't write something personal, it felt wrong and nothing did happen around him anyway. Mustang didn't write an introduction like "Dear Edward" or stuff. Did he have the same problem like Ed? No, couldn't be, Mustang had a sharp tongue, it was unlikely for him to not find any words, right? He was probably just lazy. He regarded Mustang's writing next to his own, still empty paper. And somehow words managed to come to him.

_Tell them thanks and my best wishes, too. You're a pyromaniac. _

_And of course I can teach you OLD dogs._

_Sincerely,_

_Edward Elric, Fullmetal_

He knew he didn't own the title any more, but he also knew that Mustang would understand. So he set up an extra paper, wrote down the information and the reference to the book in a report like fashion, and searched for an envelope. He wrote the addresses on it. He had no stamps, but he was sure Pinako did. So he went to find her. The old woman almost dropped her pipe when Edward asked her.

"Sure.", she said. "Of course I've got some stamps, just wait a second." and she hurried away. Ed stayed where he was. He could feel Winry stare at him, but he didn't know anything else to say, so he just stared at the letter in his hand and waited for her to say something. But she kept being quiet and thoughtful. Pinako came back and handed him the stamps. He nodded his thanks, licked the stamps to make them sticky, and placed them on the envelope. Then he went to the post office.

People greeted him on his way. He always waved at them, giving them a small smile. He felt good enough to do that, the letter in his hand was reassuring.

Back in his room he thought about whether he would receive a respond. The military would pay some money. Maybe they would send another official document, too. But would he receive another note from Mustang? He couldn't deny that he hoped for it. Just one sentence would be enough, it didn't even need to be a "thank you", just something that told him that he had managed to do the task right. Not because he wanted praise, but because selfish him just needed a bit reassurance that he wasn't a complete failure, that there was still something he could do without causing something bad. He pulled at his hair, knowing that he didn't deserve such reassurance, but still. He couldn't help but want it.

* * *

He had managed to force all his feelings down again, when a few days later Pinako called for him to come down, there was another letter. He made his way downstairs faster and with more energy than Winry and Pinako had seen from him for quite a long time. The envelope Pinako passed on to him looked just like the last, and he pried it open on the spot. The thick military document was ignored, it fell to the ground when he pulled out the second sheet of paper. He unfold it, and sure enough there was the note in Mustang's handwriting.

_They almost started a party when they heard you greeted them back. You made them really happy. I see you stressed the word _old_. Well, let me stress, that I am still _not even thirty_! Despite that, I have to say, I appreciated the surprise of your letter in my morning mail. It seems that short things make my day better, be it your note or you in person. I don't know if you really rant about not being short when you read that, but my day so far was quite boring, so for my fun I'll just imagine you do. Otherwise I/we just wanted to say thank you for helping out._

_Sincerely,_

_Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, not a pyromaniac_

Ed could hear the colonels voice in his head. Could hear the smooth, deep voice speaking the words on the paper, could even hear it screech a little when it came to his age, or almost purr in amusement when it told the short joke line. He could imagine how and what he would have retorted to the colonels words, could feel a slight twitch that told him to really yell and wave the letter in an angry way, whilst he complained about the Bastard calling him small again.

But he couldn't do that. He couldn't just send a letter, a _real letter_ back to Mustang. He just wasn't close enough to the colonel to do such thing. And he couldn't just leave Resembool to scream at him in person either. That's why he put the letter to the other one in his desk drawer, thanked whatever higher force that might be there, even though he didn't believe in it, for the wonderful reassurance and the small potion of peace for his mind, and then proceeded to forget.


	4. Chapter 3 Get back the silver memory

**Thank you very much for the encouraging**** reviews x3**

**Chapter 3**

**Get back the silver memory**

Edward trudged down the stairs and sat on the couch where Winry and Pinako were already waiting for him. He had a faint feeling that, whatever they wanted today, was a bit more important than the usual reasons they asked him to come downstairs for. They looked at him with serious faces and finally Pinako started to speak:

"Edward, I thought that with time you might get back on your feet on your own, but it does seem like you are determined to stay like you are. I thought that Colonel person would be able to get you going again, but I now see, that I was wrong in thinking that he could do it alone. He can only work if there is something for him to work with, so Winry and me decided, that we will give you both a nudge in the right direction."

"We noticed that you came out of your shell a bit when those letters arrived, especially the last.", Winry continued for her grandmother. "And well...it made us think, that maybe you want and need to go back to Central."

Edward stared at her. Oh, great, they discovered his dilemma, now Winry would cry! He shook his head frantically, to prevent that from happening. Winry sighed. "Ed, I can see you're lying."

"Don't...Don't want you to cry.", Edward forced himself to admit.

"Edward, I won't cry if you leave.", she said with a small smile.

Edward swallowed hard and looked down at his feet. They wanted him to leave, had he done something wrong? He thought he had behaved well, he had done all chores, never complained, never caused trouble. Winry seemed to sense his thought process, because she came over and sat down next to him.

"I will be sad and I'll miss you, but I won't cry, because I know that it'll make you feel better. And you can always come back if you want to, but don't come here just for us." She leaned over and hugged him. "I want you to be happy just as much as you want me to be happy. So if you need to go to Central, it is okay."

Ed wrapped his arms around her, too, and pulled her close. " 'M sorry.", he mumbled into her shoulder.

"Don't be.", she smiled a little and leaned back to face him. "So will you go?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, but nodded.

* * *

Resembool is a quite unimportant place in the view of an average Amestrian, so the train that connected it to Central City didn't arrive every day. Ed would have to wait until the morning of the day after tomorrow to board it. But that was quite all right. Winry used most of the day he had to waste waiting to tinker with his automail, and make sure it was in the best shape possible, and every mechanism in it was updated. Afterwards he started packing.

Most of his clothes were just another version of his black pants, black top, black jacket look. Once he had these in the suitcase he added the few pyjamas he owned, mostly consisting of some shorts and some plain white t-shirts. Socks and boxershorts followed. He would grab his toiletries in the morning after getting ready. But there was still some unoccupied space in the suitcase that he kept staring at, not sure what to do about it. Usually it would contain some books and the few personal items he and Al had allowed themselves to keep along. But there were no books at the moment. And without Al there was no stuff for Al to pack. Somehow Edward felt like the suitcase. Like there was some empty space inside of him that used to be filled with something, but would have to remain empty from now on.

He looked away, across the room. There was his old journal on the desk. It was the only personal item Edward thought might be good to take with him. It contained so much information, it would be helpful if he regained his job. He had coded it to look like a simple diary about his journey with Al, that might be hurtful to look at, but most of the stories were altered to fit the code, so it would be bearable. He snatched the journal and stopped, thinking. Then he pulled the desk drawer open, and gathered the two notes from Mustang. He carefully folded them twice to make them the right size, then he put them between the last page he had written on, and the next one that was still empty, waiting for him to scribble on it. Finally he put the journal in the suitcase. It didn't fill very much of the empty space, but it made it better, nonetheless.

* * *

After shaking the dust out of his red coat, putting it on, and saying good bye to Winry and Pinako with a hug, Ed started on his way. He still didn't like to speak up, but he managed to say "Central", when he bought his ticket. The man in the ticket booth looked a little bit confused, because he was used to a more cheerful Edward, but luckily he decided not to pry into Edwards business and just handed over the ticket. Finally he boarded the train.

He tried to sleep, but it didn't work. His sleeping pattern had consisted of dropping onto his bed from exhaustion every second night for quite a while now. It wasn't that he didn't try to sleep, it just wouldn't work because either his stupid brain refused to back down, and therefore made him think about everything he managed to push away during the day, or he had a nightmare.

After an hour of unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep he settled to watch the passing scenery. It was boring and mind numbing because he had been on that train enough times to know the fleeting landscape quite well, but then it was his goal to keep his thoughts dull. Otherwise he would remember how many times he and Al had used the time on the train to talk or play a game of cards.

After what seemed like forever his dull eyes registered the platform of the Central City Train Station behind the window. He jumped up and gathered his luggage to get off the train. Once on the platform he just stood there for a while. Finally he decided that it would be best to go to Central HQ right now. There wasn't much time left before the workday there ended, but he could make it. So he started walking, ignoring red traffic lights and such things, only coming to a stop in front of the gates of the military headquarters. The guards waved at him and let him pass. It felt funny that they still knew him, even after such a long time. Though how long had it really been? Ed didn't know. He was also slightly amazed that his feet found the way to that particular office without him actively leading them. He stared down at them, watched them as they walked him to his goal. And then there was the door. Dark, sturdy, a messing plate that read _Colonel Mustang_, and a dent where Ed had used to kick it open. Today Edward used the handle.

His entrance was quite enough that the office's occupants actually didn't realise it. But Ed didn't mind. He just watched them with a small grin as they proceeded to act like the funny guys they were, when there was now reason to act serious. Currently Breda and Havoc seemed to be engaged in a contest about who would blink first, leaving them staring at each other with wide eyes and a twisted face. Considering that Fury was watching them with a stopwatch in his hands, they also seemed to try for a new record. Falman was holding their infamous _book of bets_ and from time to time read out whose records they had already broken. The contest was successfully ruined when Hawkeye came out of Mustang's inner office. The four men jumped and tried to find an excuse why they weren't working. When they realised that Hawkeye wasn't looking at them, they turned to find out what she was smiling at, and jumped again when they saw Ed standing there.

"Boss!", Havoc finally yelled, sounding surprised but happy.

"Found your way back here?", Breda asked grinning.

"It's nice to see you again!", Fury piped up.

"I agree with Sergeant Fury.", Falman said.

"I guess you want to see the Colonel?", Haweye asked, still smiling.

Ed nodded and made his way over to the door. He took a deep breath. He could tell that the others waited for him to kick the door, but once again he chose to slip in fast and silent. He didn't want to annoy Mustang right away, the Colonel might decide that he didn't want Ed in his team again, if he did so. The Colonel sat behind his desk, staring at a paper in his hand with a rather bored expression whilst his other hand supported his head. After a minute or so he put the paper down, sighed and scribbled his signature before he put the paper on top of the smaller of the two piles on his desk. Then he reached for one of his desk drawers and pulled out some other paper. He laid that paper on his desk like he was presenting it to Ed. And a second later he looked up with a smirk, revealing, that he actually did so. "Came to sign those?", he asked.

For a second Edward felt the urge to say something sarcastic, but he thought better of it and instead walked over to grab Mustang's discarded pen and the papers. The Colonel reached out and placed his hand over the space where Ed was about to sign, effectively stopping him. Ed's eyes shot up. He new he looked pathetic with the fear that showed in his eyes, but he couldn't stop it from showing fast enough. He swallowed, staring at Mustang with pleading eyes. He needed to sign this, or he'd end up hurt in Resembool again. Mustang blinked and actually looked shocked for a brief second, but then slowly moved his hands away. "Well, at least there's a spark." he murmured.

Ed quickly signed the paper. He put Mustang's pen back in the place on the wooden surface where he had taken it from and then stood awkwardly in front of the desk. He felt relieved, that he had his place in Mustang's team back, but he didn't know what to do now. The Colonel picked up the paper and put it back in the drawer. Before he closed it again he pulled something else out of it. He pushed it over the desk and Ed caught it. It was a silver pocket watch.

"It's your old one. You can choose if you want to keep it. If not I'll put in a request for a new one." You don't need to choose now."

Every one else might have sound pitying and/or might have started to give a speech about how sorry he was about what had happened on the date that was etched inside the watch, but Mustang didn't. And Ed was grateful for it. He nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly, and put the watch into his pocket. It fit there very well. Maybe the cloth of his pants remembered the bump the watch caused there.

The Colonel thoughtfully regarded the papers on his desk for a while, causing Ed to feel awkward again. "I don't have a mission for you right now.", he finally admitted. "But you can come to the office and help us with our normal work until I get some assignment that fits. If you don't have any important research, that is." Mustang raised his eyebrows in question. Edward hung his head. Without Al there was no research to put above military stuff. He missed Mustang's pointed glance at his automail arm.

"Well, if you don't say whatever you think aloud, I guess I'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out what you'll do." the Colonel paused, giving Ed the chance to speak up, but the boy was busy with stopping his brain from thinking about how he failed with the original goal that lead him into Mustang's office. _Numb, go numb, _he told himself. _Don't think about that there is no Al waiting in the outer office for you to come back with a new lead on the stone. _Deep in his thoughts he must have turned to face the door, because he found himself staring at it when Mustang's gentle "You may go.", brought him back to reality.

He turned to face the Colonel, but then ducked his head, ashamed that he had spaces out like that. It was his intention to stay numb and not think too much about the world, not to make those few who in some way cared about him think that he'd gone crazy and lost his brains somewhere. He would disappoint Winry and he'd end up in Resembool again if he was thrown out of the military because they thought he had some mental issues. So he nodded once and made his way to the door.

"So, you got your job back?", Havoc asked excitedly when he closed Mustang's door behind him. Ed patted the watch in his pocket and smiled a little.

"Congratulations.", Breda said. Fury and Falman nodded happily.

"Will we see you tomorrow?", Hawkeye asked. Her tone was uncharacteristically gentle, but not that horrible _I-think-you're-made-of-glass-and-I-am-afraid-I-might-shatter-you_-tone. Edward shrugged a little.

"All right, just think about it. We start here at eight."

Edward nodded and waved good bye, before he left.

He trudged down the stairs in front of HQ and found himself at a loss. What was he supposed to do now, where was he supposed to go? There was a bench, not far away, at the edge of the decorative lawn that was supposed to make the place look friendlier and less like a fortress. He went over, sat on it, and put his suitcase, which he subconsciously remembered to drag along, next to his feet. Watching the sun prepare to vanish for the night, he tried to think. Unfortunately his sleeping pattern decided to interrupt his thoughts about what to do next, and he closed his eyes not five minutes later. When the sun was down and the first officers left HQ to go home, Fullmetal was asleep.


	5. Chapter 4 A new day

**Once again THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR YOUR REVIEWS x3 I love you guys. I will try to update at least once a week and finish this story one day. **

**Chapter 4**

**A new day**

Edward stirred and finally slowly opened his eyes. He wasn't very happy that he had to emerge from the depths of his for once dreamless sleep. Though he figured that, since sleep was only the recovery modus of the human body, it was only natural that his body wouldn't stay in peaceful slumber longer than necessary. After all a body was made to move and work, because how else was it supposed to get it's nutrition and things? Screw evolution for making human bodies too complicated to live from sleep alone. It would have made living on much easier for Ed if he could just sleep away the days.

He sighed and made to sit up, but stopped. During his thoughts he had stared at the ceiling above him, but now he remembered that, before he closed his eyes to sleep, he had been staring at the sinking sun. He frowned in confusion. How did that change of scenery happen? He stared at the ceiling some more.

It was familiar in some way, but on the other hand he had never seen it before. Maybe he should survey the rest of the room for answers. He turned his head and looked over the plain room. There were two small closets and another, empty and neatly made, bed and a desk in the corner. Now he knew why even the ceiling had looked familiar, even though he had never been in this room before. Military dorms had this tendency too look all completely the same.

So he was in a dorm. Nothing wrong with that, he would have most likely chosen to stay here anyway, now that he was in Central again. The only question that still remained was: How did he get here? He scrutinised the place once more.

There was his suitcase in front of one of the closets. His red coat was draped over the chair by the desk, together with his black jacket. He leaned over the edge of his bed and looked down. There were his boots, ready for him to slip them on again. Leaning back again, he lifted the blanket and looked himself over. Whoever had taken his coat, jacket, and boots off, had not dared to remove more and put him in his pyjamas, because he was still in his black pants and his black top. He decided, that he appreciated this.

Finally he moved out of the bed. He ignored his boots and shuffled over to the desk in only his socks. There was something gleaming on the surface. His hand unconsciously wandered down to check his pocket, though he knew from the small scratches and dents, and other traces of the rough life the watch was forced to endure, that it was indeed his.

He grabbed the watch to put it back into his pocket when he realised that someone had used the silver thing as a paperweight. A small, folded piece of paper was clamped below the watch. Blinking in surprise he stuffed the watch into his pocket and then carefully unfold the paper. The penmanship was familiar, and he blinked once more in surprise before he read:

_There are many people who like to decorate their front yards with garden gnomes. The military is not included. Therefore we would appreciate it if you sleep somewhere else, for example in this dorm room, that is now booked for you. The key is in your coat pocket._

_Sincerely, _

_Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, not your secretary_

Edward stared open mouthed at the note. _Mustang_ had brought him over here? That was...strange. The Colonel was the last person he would have thought to do something like this. Ed would have expected him to wake him up. Speaking, poking, yelling, dumping water on him, or maybe even burn his coat, if nothing else helped. He checked his coat, but it didn't look like it had been abused with flames or water. Either Mustang had tried to wake him half-heartedly or not at all, before he chose to bring Ed to the dorms.

At least the note held a short joke, otherwise Ed would have feared for Mustang's mental health.

Edward finally chose not to think about the whole thing, too much. It would never happen again, so there was no use in trying to analyse why it somehow made him feel better. He should really just hope that it would never come up again, because Mustang had a tendency to laugh about him already, and he shouldn't appear like he was a helpless kid that couldn't find a place to sleep alone, when he was determined to stay with the military. So forget, pray that the others do so, too, and live on.

Edward opened the watch to find out what time it was. He had slept in so far, it was nearly lunch time. That meant he was late to the office. If he chose to go. They left the option open for him, so he hoped they wouldn't mind if he was late.

His gaze fell on the date, engraved in the lit of the watch. He really hoped they wouldn't mind if he was late, because he was going to need some more time today. For the first time after what seemed like ages, he clapped his hands and transmuted the tip of his index finger into something pointy. Then he set to work, adding a new date to the old one.

* * *

He arrived at the office just when the Colonel and his men, and woman, came back from their lunch break. He smiled when they greeted him cheerfully and went beet red when Mustang called:

"Morning, sleeping beauty!"

The colonel smirked a little, but it didn't seem very vicious and he didn't say anything else, so Ed hoped that the incident would be forgotten. To be sure that he didn't make himself a target he kept his head down until Mustang vanished in his inner office.

The others sat at their desks and Edward stood there a little awkwardly, but Hawkeye came to save him immediately. She placed him at the remaining desk and put some files on it. Edward didn't posses the military knowledge that was required for most files, but Hawkeye gave him the task of summarising reports from other soldiers. The Lieutenant told him that she was really happy that he helped them out, because if Ed summarised the reports, then the others could file, sign, and whatever else they needed to do with them, much faster then when they had to read them whole, meaning they wouldn't have to work extra hours. It seemed, that today one of those phases, when they were practically swamped with paper work, had started.

"Why can't they balance the work, so it is the same amount every time? I mean yesterday we got almost nothing, and today they try to drown us with this crap!", Havoc complained as he scribbled away on his paper.

"I bet they are just too lazy to pass the files on immediately when they get them, and collect them in a big box, which they only bring over when it is full.", Breda mused in a bad mood.

"As far as I know, this is indeed the common management technique." Falman grumbled, for once not so stoic as usual.

"Put that on the _to-be-changed-when-Mustang-is-Führer-_list.", was the answer.

They bickered some more and from time to time tried to engage Edward in their complain-marathon, but Ed was happy with grinning at them and raising his eyebrows whenever they said something particular stupid.

An hour later Mustang came out of his inner office, complaining that he needed some distraction or he'd fall asleep on his papers. So he dumped his work on his smaller desk in this office, and took part in the conversation, throwing in a witty comment now and then.

Ed listened to them whilst he worked, and couldn't help but feel contempt. He knew they missed Alphonse, too, he could see it in the way they had opened their mouth to, almost instinctively, ask where he was when Ed came in to work, before realisation hit them and they covered it up fast. But unlike Winry or Pinako they didn't dwell on it or tried to push it down forcefully. Maybe it was because they hadn't known Alphonse that well, and therefore didn't miss him as much, something Ed could understand and wasn't angry about. But he knew it wasn't just that.

As stupid as it might sound, Edward had the feeling, that unlike civilians like Winry and Pinako, those soldiers had accepted the fact that life could be ended and people could be gone very fast, much better. They had a dangerous job, even more dangerous than the average soldier maybe, concidering that they supported Mustang in becoming Führer, a dream that sometimes resulted in dangerous undercover missions. Some of them had even killed already, and therefore knew first hand how little it takes to end a life. That's why they had learned to go on, to live on, much better than every one else.

And that's why Edward appreciated their company. They could be happy and cheerful around him, and he knew they weren't so because they didn't care that Al was gone. They did it because they knew how to go on and wanted to teach him. One more reason he felt much better here in the office than in Resembool: The people around him didn't infect him with their sadness all over again, whenever he managed to overcome his own.

So he worked on on his files, the corners of his mouth lifted into a tiny, but nonetheless existing smile.


	6. Chapter 5 Of sleep and leads

**Today my mother asked me if I smoked weed, or something, because I ran around the house overly happy and smiling like an idiot for hours. **

**Well, I didn't smoke weed, I just read your reviews :)**

**Chapter 5**

**Of sleep and leads**

Around 17:30 Havoc, Falman, Breda and Fuery got ready to leave for home. They thanked Edward very much, because they were only able to do so because he helped them out. Edward grinned and blushed a little and shrugged in a "think nothing about it" way when they praised him to the heavens.

"You know, you are free to go, too. You did enough today, and there's nothing you could help the Colonel with, 'cause he gets the more complex reports that you need to read whole to understand.", Havoc explained as he grabbed his things.

Edward nodded in understanding. Mustang had retreated to his inner office again, some time ago, indicating that he didn't want to be disturbed. He was a little grumpy when they interrupted his train of thoughts to say good bye for the day. The others didn't seem to mind their commanders mood, though. It seemed that this behaviour was normal, because the Colonel would stay at least an hour longer than they did, almost every day. On some days because he procrastinated so much, that he had to do all of his paperwork now in a hurry, on other days (like today) it was because he simply had more work to do from the beginning. Hawkeye usually stayed with him, to make sure he didn't burn the papers.

So they left headquarters, and wished the others a nice evening, when they separated to walk to their destinations. In Edwards case the dorms. The young alchemist walked into his room, kicked off his boots, and tossed his coat on the chair by the desk. Then he sat on his bed.

He could feel all the little bits of good feelings he had managed to collect during the day, vanish. The room was quiet and he was alone, no chattering soldiers around him, and nothing to do. Maybe he should walk to the library and get a book to read? But then what kind of book? Those about human transmutation or the philosophers stone held no value for him any more.

Maybe he should try and sleep. Edward snorted at the thought. He knew, that tonight he wouldn't get an eye shut. He had slept during the last night, so his body would manage to stay up for the next 24 hours, and his restless brain would make sure that it did so. With a shudder he pulled his legs up to his chest. He hated to know, that he would start thinking soon. With nothing else to do, and a whole, lonely night in front of him, every thought he usually managed to push away would come up again, because his treacherous brain just couldn't forget on command. He sighed, wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees. There was only one thing he could do now to save himself from the pain.

His breathing slowed, his eyes went dull, and he stared blankly at the white wall in front of him, thinking about nothing but about how many different shades of grey that wall could be, when the daylight falling in through the small window, lessened and then became more again. If he thought about that at all. Maybe he just dimly recognised it. He didn't know, he was numb again.

When the daylight had reached the level of dawn again, he flicked open the lid of his pocket watch and watched the seconds tick by until he had to get ready to work. He felt relieve when he finally walked up the stairs to Central Command.

* * *

Mustang and Hawkeye were late. If only Mustang had slept in there wouldn't be any reason for worry, but if Hawkeye was late, too, then something must have happened. So when the two finally walked into the office, the others immediately analysed their faces and posture, trying to find out, what it was. They both looked grim and slightly pissed.

"Not again! Did that pig kill another one?", Havoc finally asked.

"Yes, they called us around four, some MP found the mess.", Mustang answered, his eyes narrowed in disgust. Though he was obviously less disgusted with the dead body than with the guy who did it.

"Any clues?", Bread wanted to know.

"No, nothing but the circle, again. And the victims still seem random." The Colonel turned to Ed. "Though, thanks to Fullmetal here, we do have a lead in another way."

Edward blinked at the Colonel, slightly confused. He had no idea what was going on and where he had helped. He watched as Mustang stepped between his and Havocs chair and pushed some papers on their desks out of the way. He then flicked through the small folder he had tucked under his arm when he came in, and finally laid one of the pages in the cleared up space for them to look at.

"You remember the array I send to you when you were in Resembool?", the Colonel asked Ed. Edward nodded quickly. How could he forget those letters? He stopped the smile that threatened to climb on his face with the memory. This was not a situation to smile.

"Well, it turned out, that there is only one known copy of the book you said it was from, because it is less of a book and more of a handwritten journal. And it is not available for the average person or alchemist. It is part of the restricted materials the military owns. Even state alchemists can't just read it. You had to go through quite the procedure to get your hands on it, right Fullmetal?"

Edward thought about it. Yes he remembered, he had to go and get a lot of forms, and those had to be signed by Mustang first, who had to pass it on to the Führer before it was completely approved.

"Judging by your face, you do remember.", Mustang said with a smirk, but he became serious again as he went on. "Well the reason that you need your commanding officer's signature is, that because of the dangerous contents of that book, your commanding officer is supposed to do a security check on you and search all data and his own knowledge about you, for the reason why you would want those informations. Only if he can't find a reason for you to use that knowledge for an attempt at human transmutation, and deems it safe to trust you with that book, the Führer can be bothered to give the final permission. This, and the fact that you will be put on an unofficial kind of black list that contains alchemists who are to be watched closely in case they loose someone, scares most alchemists away. Which leaves us with a rather small list of people who borrowed the book during the last five years. And also with the sad knowledge, that the murderer is probably one of our own."

"So it's most likely one of those guys?", Breda murmured thoughtfully as they all leaned forward to read the list. "Well at least there are only six people on the list."

Ed read the names. He had heard them all before once, because they were state alchemists, but he knew nothing about them. Well except for the name of the person who borrowed the book last.

"I guess we can cross Fullmetal out.", Mustang said and took Havoc's pen. "And this one has been killed by Scar." he crossed out another name. His hand hovered over the name of the man who had the book first. The Fullmetal Alchemist watched as the colonel narrowed his eyes in thought.

"Sir?", asked Hawkeye, who could read Mustang best. The Colonel emerged out of his thought process and seemed to remember that not everyone could follow his train of thoughts like the lieutenant did.

"That one graduated with me. He became a state alchemist in the same year as I did. Though, as far as I know, he's stuck in a mental ward now.", he explained.

"Well, you _have _to be crazy to make such a mess out of people.", Breda said.

"But it's wrong to immediately blame him, you don't know what his problem is.", Fuery with his kind heart said.

"I think he's there for bad depression and constantly trying to kill him self.", Mustang remembered with a frown.

"In that case I guess he would be under strict surveillance and couldn't do things like this.", Falman said.

"I'll visit him and have a look.", Mustang announced and circled the name. "There's nothing else to do right now anyway, the guys from investigation still need to find the others on the list."

"With all due respect, sir: Considering the reason why this man has been committed to the mental ward, I don't think it is a good idea for you to talk to him.", Hawkeye said.

The Colonel and the Lieutenant stared at each other for a while, talking through looks none of the others could decipher.

"Fine, I'll have someone from investigations check him for now, but I will go there myself if something comes up.", Mustang finally gave in.

Hawkeye nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now that you're all updated, go back to work!" With that Mustang recollected the file and went into his inner office.

"Ugh, can't we start lunch five minutes early?", Bread whined.

* * *

After lunch they had been back to their normal working atmosphere and Ed had happily scribbled on his papers. He even felt a little more cheerful than yesterday, because he knew that his knowledge about the book and the array were helpful in this murder case. Though during the last five minutes of work time he started to feel uneasy. He needed a moment to understand that he was nervous. Nervous because of the knowledge that he once again had no idea what to do with himself after work. He thought about staying here until Mustang and Hawkeye were ready to go, too.

Those two had a lot of work to catch on to, because they had to be at the crime scene in the morning. They would surely stay very long. But then he remembered that Havoc said, that there was no way for him to help them, and if he would just stay for the sake of staying, then Mustang surely would get angry and annoyed. The colonel had barely left his inner office today, and he had been rather grumpy and sleep deprived during lunch, so Ed figured, that he wouldn't want to be disturbed during his work and therefore would not appreciate Ed's presence in his office any longer than necessary. So he walked back to the dorms at a pace that would allow a slug to get ahead of him.

Tonight he should be exhausted enough to sleep, though when he laid there on his bed, he still felt he couldn't, no matter how much his body craved it. His eyes flickered across the dark room. These dorm rooms were usually made for two, and even though he was glad that Mustang probably arranged that no stranger would be put in here with him, he still couldn't help but feel alone.

The last time he had checked in in a dorm room, Al had still been with him. His brother couldn't sleep, but he would still sit or lie down on the other bed and talk to Ed, until Ed was too tired and started to fall asleep. Then he would grab a book and Ed would fully fall asleep to the sound of pages turning, and metal creaking softly when Al moved.

Now though the other bed was empty and the room quiet. And it hurt Ed because he knew it was his fault. And it made him desperate, that even if he changed the dorm room or moved into a hotel, this painful guilt wouldn't stay at bay, because all of this rooms looked so similar, none of them would allow him to stay in peace.

The young alchemist buried his head in his pillow an fisted his blankett hard. He couldn't breath right like this, but then he was trying not to sob so it was all right. He hated this helpless feeling, he wouldn't let it overcome him, he'd suffocate in his pillow before he'd let it...no he wouldn't, if he suffocated, he'd kill himself and that was no option because Al had told him to live on. So he lifted his head and breathed deeply. His head hurt now, but he didn't mind because he deserved it and it distracted him from all the other pain.

His hectic breathing reminded him again that there was no other sound in the room, so he tried to breath slower because it suddenly seemed too loud. Finally he was lying still. But that only allowed him to hear the faint ticking of his pocket watch, reminding him that this night wasn't over, yet, and that he would still have to endure falling asleep and waking up from a nightmare, before he could go back to the office again. He tensed, waiting in fear for that to happen. But he waited so hard, that in the end it kept him awake until the sun was up again. With a wry smile he got out of bed, showered the cold sweat away, made himself look as normal as possible, and then almost ran to HQ.


	7. Chapter 6 Like a hobo

**It's still the same day, so I can still just say that your reviews make me very very happy and my mother thinks I'm crazy and high on drugs because of that. **

**Chapter 6**

**Like a hobo**

He had felt the concerned looks from the others more than he had seen them. He hoped they wouldn't start to treat him like a piece of glass or something. They luckily didn't. Instead, they actively allowed him to catch them staring once, and raised their eyebrows questioning when they had his attention. Ed couldn't help but gratefully smile at that, because this way they let him know that they cared and that they would listen if he chose to talk to them, without prying into his business too much. They didn't bother him with annoying questions and they didn't spoke those pitiful standard phrases like "How do you feel?" or "Do you want to talk?"or "everything will be better one day". And what was the best was, that none of them claimed to know how he felt. They just simply stated the fact that they didn't like him to feel bad and were there to help the best they could, if he let them. When after a second of smiling his thanks for their questioning looks he shook his head though, telling them that he wasn't ready yet, they nodded once in acceptance and went back to work, treating him like they always had. Though that didn't meant their concern vanished. He could still see them looking at him from the corner of their eyes sometimes, though that didn't bother him. He appreciated that they cared about him in their own subtle ways, without rushing him, without pestering him, but ready to be there none the less.

Though it startled him when even Mustang showed this behaviour. The Colonel was a lot more careful about to not get caught looking at him, but Ed saw it twice. That's why he could tell that the third time, when he managed to capture and hold Mustangs stare, it was fully the colonels intention to let himself be caught looking.

Mustang raised only one eyebrow, adding his own, slightly mocking touch to the question. Though it was obvious to Edward that he not actually intended to mock him. It was a safety line, for both of them, because neither the colonel nor Ed were used to act openly concerned for one another. So Mustang acknowledged Edward's seemingly dislike towards him, and also maintained a bit of the professional relationship they were supposed to have as subordinate and commanding officer, by simply leaving them this escape route into the less serious fields of bickering, if they felt they were getting to personal.

Edward thought about what he should do now. Take the escape? Nod a thanks and then shake his head, too? Or actually speak up and tell the colonel what was bothering him? Mustang had been nice enough to book him a dorm, bring him there, and never remind him of that again, apart from a note and the greeting when he finally showed up to work. But did that mean that he was willing to handle the much bigger problems that Ed would bring with him? Or was he just doing what he thought seemed right and wasn't_ really_ interested, just wanting his dog to function properly again? It was always so hard to tell with that man. Edward was pretty sure that Mustang was able to control his face perfectly enough to look like he wanted to look almost always. So how much could he trust the colonel?

Edward bit his lip, then chose to try it a bit. He wouldn't speak up, but he wouldn't take the escape route either. So he smiled a small thanks, then shook his head, like he did for the others. Mustang's second eyebrow rose up, too, allowing Ed a second to rethink his choice. But when Ed just looked at the Colonel without any indication that he changed his mind, Mustang nodded his head once, accepting Ed's decision. The young alchemist wasn't sure, but he could have sworn that for a millisecond Mustang smiled, like he was grateful that Ed didn't reject his concern and took the escape route. But when he blinked, the Colonel looked like he had never lifted his head from his paperwork to begin with. So Edward wasn't sure, but he liked to think he was.

* * *

When they neared the end of the workday, Ed felt like his head would hit the table any second. He was barely able to hold his eyes open, but he didn't want to fall a sleep know, he still had some work to do. He jumped when someone carefully took the pen from his hand.

"The Chief has allowed for you to go home early. Says,_ if that paperwork makes you this tired, then you should take a break now, before it bores you to death by tomorrow_.", Havoc tried to imitate the colonel' s voice with a wry grin.

Ed blinked in surprise, then looked over at Mustang, who looked far to engrossed in the paper he was currently reading. He knew for a fact, that the man had exceptional hearing when it came to sentences that included him, so there was no way he could have missed this. But the colonel stubbornly stared at his paper, acting as if they all weren't even there.

Edward looked back to Havoc, who grinned a lot brighter now and shrugged.

"You should take the offer, it's one you get once in a lifetime!", Breda exaggerated with a wink.

Ed looked down at his files, contemplating. He knew that if he worked on in this state, then he'd do crappy work. And if he did crappy work, then he could loose his place here, something he really didn't want to. So he shoved the files he still had to do a little to the side, and kept only the one he had just been working on in front of him. He held out his hand for his pen and Havoc, understanding that Ed only wanted to finish the half ready thing, let him have it back. Edward finished the file up, suppressed a yawn and grabbed his things. He waved his good bye to the others, daring himself to give a small smile to Mustang, end left.

The air outside was slightly colder, waking him enough to make him think about the dorm room that was waiting for him. Funny. This morning he had practically run from it because he couldn't sleep there, and now he had to crawl back earlier because he just _had _to sleep. He walked down the stairs, his gaze swept aimlessly over the place while he did so. It stopped when it fell onto the bench he had fallen asleep on, on the first day back here.

Ed wondered. Where would he end up if he fell asleep there again? Would Mustang bring him somewhere again, or would he just burn him, this time? The boy hadn't even realised that he had walked over there, until he felt himself sit down. He thought about standing up again and walking away, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. His sleep deprived mind wanted an answer to his questions, no matter how stupid this experiment was. So he closed his eyes.

* * *

Edward woke to the ceiling of the dorm and a note underneath his pocket watch, again. So he wouldn't end up in a better place when he closed his eyes long enough. Well, at least that knowledge made it easier not to slit his wrists. Or wrist, singular. Metal couldn't bleed, he remembered sadly. He read the lines:

_Dear sleeping beauty, _

_if you want to be kissed awake, go sleep in a place full of girls. They would certainly do better than a lick over the face from a military dog. Seriously, they where betting about which one of them would dare to do so. _

_Anyway, the best place to sleep is still a bed, so I recommend you use yours from now on._

_Sincerely,_

_Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, very tempted to let them lick you if you make him carry you again_

* * *

Ed tried to use his bed, he really did. But he just couldn't sleep! He would lay there, sweating and clutching his sheets, tensing whenever a bad thought came near his conciousness. He would nod off, after hours of praying that he did, only to be jolted awake by a nightmare again five minutes later. During the day he would feel well, as well as someone without sleep could, enjoying work, feeling warm from the other's concern, but at night he was a wreck. And that's why three days later he couldn't help but end on that bench again. It was pathetic and stupid, but his messed up brain held the hope that maybe one day he would wake up somewhere nice.

But he woke to the ceiling of the dorm and a note, causing a pattern, causing a vicious circle.

Stay awake for two nights.

Fall a sleep on the bench.

Wake up in the dorm.

_If you don't like your bed like it is, maybe try to transmute it until it fits. Just don't let the janitor see it. They hate it if you transmute furniture in 'their' buildings. _

_Sincerely,_

_Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, no time to think about something witty, got a date_

Be glad that Mustang still cared enough to not just leave him on the bench for the night.

Work.

Stay awake for two nights.

Fall a sleep on the bench.

Wake up in the dorm.

_I know that corpulent people are said to look shorter then they are, but getting thinner won't make you look taller, so start eating again! A well balanced nutrition will make you taller much more likely._

_Sincerely,_

_Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, could carry a few more pounds without a problem_

Be glad that Mustang still cared enough to not just leave him on the bench for the night.

Work.

Stay awake for two nights.

Fall a sleep on the bench.

Wake up in the dorm.

_I know I said, I could carry a few more pounds, but that was no invitation to test me by sleeping on that bench again. Besides, you didn't gain those pounds. _

_Otherwise I would like to inform you, that I will not let you continue your sleep-on-the-bench-game. I don't like the rumours that are coming up, and I don't like getting head aches from thinking too hard about just what makes you do this, and what I could do to help. So either you come tell me on your own, or I'll have to force you to speak to me. You have two nights._

_Sincerely,_

_Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist_

No addition to the name. Mustang was serious. Ed pulled at his hair in frustration and paced back and forth in the hated room.

He did this because he hoped that maybe one morning he'd wake up somewhere else! But that was such a stupid, illogical, and childish reason, and besides: Where else should the Colonel have brought him? For Mustang the dorms were a logical and perfectly acceptable place for Edward to stay at. Why should he think of anything else, when Ed himself didn't even know what place would make him feel better? The dorms were bad, the hotels here were bad, too, and the Hughes' place was even worse, because there he would remember another person he'd lost, too.

To sum it up: Ed was a hopeless case, and he hated himself for being this complicated.

He let himself fall to the floor and curled up into a fetal position. Just what would he do now? Mustang would put an end to his only way to sleep safely. Should he tell his reasons, should he allow the colonel to help him find another way? Or should he risk sleeping somewhere under a bridge like a hobo?

Edward decided that he would think about this after work. He would not waste those precious hours, of what was his closest attempt at happiness, to think about things he could think about at night, because they would keep him up anyway.


	8. Chapter 7 Colonel in the basement

**So here I am again. I hope I corrected all the life/live errors. I always try to learn from my mistakes so please tell me if you find some others. I appreciate critique. **

**Thanks for all your positive reviews, they really encourage me to keep the story going :)**

** at Ghostly light: try and tell that my overly careful mother ;D**

**Chapter 7**

**Colonel in the basement**

Edward managed to get into the office seemingly unnoticed by the colonel. Though when Mustang left for his private office he gave Edward a pointed look, indicating that he meant what he said in his letter, and was waiting for Ed to talk. The young alchemist buried himself in his work.

During lunch he caught the colonel silently analysing the food on his plate, obviously trying to figure out how Edward had managed to lose weight, even though he always ate with the rest of the team and still devoured his normal, bigger than average, portion of food. He still didn't seem to get that maybe lunch was the only meal Ed ate during these days.

After reading the note concerning his weight, Edward had, with a dumbfound expression, realised, that this indeed caused his pants to sit more loosely on his hips. So he pulled his belt a little tighter before he buckled it, but still didn't think about maybe starting his day with breakfast, and end it with dinner. His body was functioning just fine without, so he didn't see a reason to go out and buy food and have all the restaurant owners, who knew the kid with the gigantic appetite quite well, ask where his companion in the armour was. And he didn't want something in his stomach only to bring it up again, when he, against all odds, fell asleep in the dorm room and a nightmare made his insides churn.

Finally Mustang gave him a disapproving look when he left headquarters that day. He could tell, that the colonel would start thinking about how to make Ed speak now, because the younger alchmist still didn't seem to want to do it out of his own will.

* * *

He mostly managed to ignore Mustang during the next morning, and the Colonel let it be because he had after all promised Ed that he'd wait two nights until he started forcing Ed. It was after lunch when they were back in the office and just about to start working again when there was a knock at the door. Havoc went to get it and received a folder from a soldier from investigations. He thanked the guy, and went over to his desk, thumping through the papers.

"So, what did they find?", Mustang asked from were he was sitting behind his desk.

"Well the poor guy that was sent to visit the guy who graduated with you, said that...what's his name again... ah, Garber, is really creepy, but has no chance to get out of that mental ward. Also his psychological profile didn't seem to allow for him to do these ugly killings." He skimmed the profile. "Apparently the reason why he's there in the first place is 'cause he...well...he can't live with the number of death he caused in Ishbal.", Havoc said slowly, eyeing Mustang carefully over the edge of the paper. The colonels face didn't change.

"Continue.", was all he said.

"Well Garber is on a permanent guilt trip and tries to kill himself at every chance he gets, saying he doesn't deserve to live anymore. What is worse is that he also has a habit of trying to talk people into killing him by giving them every gruesome detail of his time there. His favourite target for this are other soldiers who have been there. He tries to talk them into feeling too guilty to live, too, so they would shoot him and then themselves. That's why the shrink says he wouldn't kill anybody but himself, and well indirectly those he talks into blowing their brains out by themselves."

They sat there in silence before Mustang turned to Hawkeye. "Did you know this?", he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I met him once, only for a few minutes, the last day he was still part of the military. I didn't know he made a habit out of toying with peoples mind, I just thought he hated you in particular. But he was discharged and put in that ward the next day, so I didn't think it was necessary to mention."

Mustang's second eyebrow raised in confusion. "Why would he hate me, I never really had anything to do with him?"

"Well, he seemed to be kind of...jealous."

"Jealous?" Mustang snorted. "I was hardly something to be jealous about during these times."

Hawkeye didn't seem to like Mustang calling himself a_ something_, but continued to explain: "Well he said something about how unfair it was that even though you were almost at the top of the list and he was at the bottom, you still managed to get away sane and with the title hero, whilst he was broke down"

"Well then he obviously thought too much about the opinions of some war crazy soldiers.", Mustang said dismissively.

The colonel turned to Havoc again, obviously about to ask him to continue, when Fuery wanted to know: "What list?" Again Mustang was about to say something dismissive, but this time Falman was faster.

"During the Ishbal Rebellion, some soldiers started a variety of betting pools about the alchemists. The most infamous ones were one about which alchemist would kill off the most Ishbalans, and one about which alchemist would go crazy first. This resulted in some kind of ranking lists.", the warrant officer spouted off the informations, like he always did when such questions occurred.

"Oh. That's ugly.", Fuery said.

"And it doesn't matter. Were working on a case here, and Garber apparently has a good enough alibi to be put off the list. Now I want to know about the others.", Mustang interrupted before anyone else could say something.

"Uh yeah..the guys from investigation found them all, and one has got an alibi for the time of every murder, so he's off the list, too. That leaves only two then: Beagle and Erlking.", Havoc read from the papers.

"Well then we better work out which one it is before we need to let them go again." The Colonel said. The team nodded a grim nod and they started to work again. Havoc sorted the files he just got so he could put them with the other ones they had about this case.

"Yo, Boss, you mind if I use a bit of your desk to sort these?", he asked Edward. The younger blond shook his head, smiled and pushed his papers to one side of his desk so Havoc could use part of it, too.

"Thanks, man!" Havoc started to scatter the papers around so he could put them in a new order and look at them all at the same time, while he started on a summary of what they had so far. Edward started at his current paper. After a while his pen ran out of ink. There was no more ink in his desk drawer and he didn't want to disturb Havoc or Hawkeye next to him, or the others, so he went over to the small supply cabinet in the corner and got some ink from there. Then he walked back to his desk.

The small inkpot fell to the floor, the black contends splashing around. All heads in the room shot up and gazes settled on the small alchemist.

Ed was shaking. He was staring at the thing on his desk, the desk that slowly vanished as the scenery around him changed. He was back in that basement, staring at that _body_, staring at the organs that pulsed in their futile struggle to stay alive. _It_ was there, right in front of him, and he just couldn't look away! His eyes went wide, and suddenly there were hands on him, grabbing him, shaking him. Edward tried to shrug the hands off, his heart raced as he feared to be torn apart again. But they wouldn't leave him alone! Those greedy hands would pull him back to the gate, take more limbs from him, maybe kill him off, or maybe force him to look at that mutilated body in front of him for ever! But he wouldn't let that happen! He clapped his hands, transformed his automail into a blade and just when he was about to blindly leash out for those horrible hands, a sharp voice ordered:

"Back off!"

The hands vanished, and so did the corpse in front of him. A white hand had somehow turned it over, leaving nothing but a white rectangle for him to look at. He blinked in utter confusion, his mind trying to find an explanation about why there was this white rectangle in the basement now. The white hand was there again, slowly moving in front of him, reaching out for him. He stumbled a step back. Was this _truth_, coming for him in person because he fought off it's black handed helpers? But truth didn't have an array on the back of it's hand.

"Look at me Fullmetal!"

Truth didn't have piercing black eyes and this calm but at the same time sharp voice, either.

"No one here means any harm to you. It's just Hawkeye and Havoc and Breda and Fuery and Falman and me. This was just a photograph, just a _picture_ from the crime scene of our current case. It's neither your mother nor Al, and it's not here in real. You're standing in the office, not a basement."

Truth didn't have black, tousled hair, didn't wear a blue uniform.

And suddenly the Colonel was standing with him in the basement, and when he put his hands on Ed's shoulders, proving how real he was, the basement vanished, leaving them in the office.

Edward was panting, shaking and felt like his knees were about to give out. He swallowed hard, closed his eyes and concentrated on the hands on his shoulders that anchored him to reality.

And then his eyes flew open again when this reality hit him and he realised what he has been about to do. Wide eyed he stared down at his automail blade. If the hands, that had shook and grabbed him, had been those of the soldiers around him, then he had been about to use it against them.

The boy started shivering even more and hastily transmuted the automail back. They would hate him, rate him dangerous, abandon him, put him into the mental ward with that Garber alchemist. Edward felt like crying. He once again had made a wrong decision, had screwed up, had endangered others just because he was too selfish to bear the pain of staying in Resembool.

He felt Mustangs hands leaving his shoulders, and looked up in panic, only to see the colonel turn away. His heart constricted painfully. _Scream, yell, tell him to stay!_ His mind shouted.

"Follow me."

Relieve flooded through him when he heard the words and he went after Mustang, staring at the blue clad back in front of him as if it would vanish if he didn't. The colonel lead him to his inner office, saying something over his shoulder to Havoc about putting stuff away, and asking for someone to get some tea. He was so calm. Was it the calm before the storm ? Ed hoped not, because it was so soothing that the colonel didn't freak out. Seeing that someone acted like the situation was under control made him feel like everything would be all right again soon.

"Sit down." The voice was still firm and commanding, but there was something very gentle in it that Ed had never heard before. He liked the sound.

The boy dropped down on the couch, grateful that finally he could allow his legs to give out. Though he almost jumped up again when he felt something heavy fall over his shoulders. But he soon realised that it was just a black coat and instinctively pulled it tighter around his still shivering frame. The thing smelled like smoke, but not the disgusting one that came from cigarettes. It was the nice kind of smoke that reminded of fire places or a freshly blown out candle. The realisation that this was Mustangs coat hit him, and he looked up to stare at the colonel in surprise.

"There are no blankets around.", the colonel said with a nonchalant shrug and sat down on the couch opposite of Ed.

For a moment the younger alchemist felt the urge to push the coat away and claim that he didn't need it, but he didn't want to loose the warmth that it provided. And it did not only provide warmth physically. In some crazy way the coat around his shoulders felt like a hug. Not that he wanted a hug from the colonel. This would be just too awkward, too much for the both of them, but the coat around his shoulders was okay. It was comfort without them getting too close.

Hawkeye entered, pulling Ed from his thoughts. She brought two mugs. The one with the tea she put in front of Ed, the one that contained coffee she gave to the colonel. Mustang looked surprised for a second, but then smiled a grateful smile and thanked his lieutenant.

"Should I stay?", she asked after accepting his thanks with a small smile of her own. Mustang stared in the depth of his coffee with a thoughtful look. It fascinated Edward to see the normally quick thinking colonel having difficulties to decide something.

"I'm not sure if this is _my_ decision.", he finally said and looked at Ed. "Do you want the lieutenant to stay?"

Ed looked at Hawkeye. He wasn't sure. He liked her and trusted her and she had that wonderful motherly site, but he didn't want to show her what a wreck he was. Her job was to care about the colonel, not about him. It would not be fair if he stole her away from Mustang like Al had been stolen away from him. But on the other hand he feared that if he pushed her away once, she'd never again care about him.

"How about I stay outside and you just call me in if you need me?", Hawkeye suggested, sensing, that the two males in the room somehow didn't know what to say. Both nodded, grateful for her suggestion.

"Just don't kill each other.", she tried to lift the mood before she left.

The two alchemists followed her with their eyes until she was gone, before they finally looked at each other again.

"Maybe you should drink your tea and calm down a little more. We can try to talk when you stopped shivering.", Mustang finally suggested.

Edward nodded and started to sip at his tea, while Mustang sipped at his coffee. Both of them trying to think about how they would go on with their conversation later.


	9. Chapter 8 Security blanket

**This chapter shall be dedicated to my new and first beta xIcyChanx**

**Chapter 8**

**Security blanket**

Ed wished there was more tea in his cup because the warm drink was very soothing, and cradling the warm mug stopped his hands from shaking. He also wished that there was more coffee in Mustang's cup, because the moment Mustang finished drinking would be the moment he started talking with Ed. Or rather started talking _to_ Ed, because Ed doubted that he'd be able to participate in a conversation.

So, he bit his lip and eyed the colonel nervously when the last bit of the black coffee vanished down the man's throat. Mustang made a move to put his cup down on the small table between the couches, but then decided against it and kept it in his hands, absentmindedly toying around with it.

"So...that picture reminded you of your mother and Alphonse, huh?" the Colonel finally asked, his voice low. Ed nodded slowly.

"Well...it is understandable that this has...upset you, but..." Mustang fiddled with the coup and Ed watched him, waiting for him to find the words to continue. How come silver tongued Roy Mustang couldn't find the words to tell him that he had become too dangerous and crazy to keep around?

Finally, Mustang put the cup on the table and straightened his back. Ed flinched. Now, here it was; he would be told to go now. Black eyes met his golden and held his gaze firmly.

"This might be cruel, Fullmetal, but I can't think of any other way to tell you. Your mother and Alphonse were...are precious to you. But you know that you can't bring them back, you've tested and proved that. They're both gone for good. And because of that, you will never be in that place again, and you will never have to fear Truth again. You have no reason to open the gate again and that is why it can't get you. So you need to understand that no matter what you see in the future, be it a picture or be it real, it can _never_ be your mother or Alphonse, because they have already been taken away. And it can _never_ be that Truth is after you again, because you have already payed the price required and you know it's futile to try another human transmutation. So, no matter what corpse you see in the future, it can't harm you and if the gate is involved, then not because of you. You are safe as long as you don't do something stupid. Remember that and think of it when you feel frightened again. If you do so then neither you nor anyone else will be harmed."

Mustang took a deep breath, released it slowly, and then looked at Ed again, waiting for a reaction or a sign that Ed got the message or that he had to try and explain it in another way.

Ed gulped and gripped his mug tighter before lifting it to his lips and swallowing the last bit of his tea. The colonel's blunt words hurt but, if he thought past that, then he could see that Mustang was somehow right.

Al and his mother were gone.

There was no way for them to come back.

Truth couldn't harm him as long as he didn't provoke it.

Edward started to calm down. He couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't freak out again if he were to see one of the corpses this killer left behind but, as long as it was just a picture and people warned him about what it depicted, he thought he could handle it now. Even so, he had the feeling the others would keep those pictures away from him from now on. And he was glad for that, for he didn't want to test himself just yet. He looked back at Mustang, who was still watching him and waiting for his reaction, and nodded.

Mustang sighed and combed his fingers through his hair. "Could you at least _voice_ your opinion?" he asked, the stress causing him to lose his patience a little.

"I...I understand," Ed mumbled. He tucked the colonel's coat tighter around himself, partly to hide himself and partly because it still felt reassuring. Mustang had already found his calmness again and even looked a bit contrite for losing it for a second.

"Okay," the colonel said. He smirked a little, albeit friendlily, and made it look almost like a smile. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He leaned back and looked down at his hands for awhile. Edward watched him as he collected his thoughts. The boy placed his empty cup next to the colonel's mug and cuddled a little more into the coat and the couch. It felt nice, comfortable and safe here. Mustang looked up again and gave him another one of his almost-smile smirks. "You look like you'll fall asleep any second."

Ed hesitated but then glared at him.

The colonel regarded him thoughtfully. "You think you can sleep on this couch?"

The younger alchemist blinked and stared at him in confusion.

"Oh, don't worry I _will_ pester you about your sleeping on that bench, but I promised you two nights to think about it, so I'll wait until tomorrow because you look like you'd rather sleep than talk right now," Mustang assured, his smirk turning a little more mischievous.

When Ed just continued to stare, the colonel stood and made to leave the inner office. "Just sleep, Fullmetal. We'll be on the other side of the door if you need something. I'll ask Hawkeye to get a real blanket."

And then, finally and much to Ed's surprise, he graced him with a real smile and walked out of the office.

The baffled little alchemist watched the colonel's back as he vanished through the door. It somehow ached a little, but he fisted his hands around the fabric of the black coat and it eased the pain somewhat. After all, his already sleepy brain concluded that people who left others behind would be too egoistic to walk away without their coat to keep them warm on their way away. So he lay on the couch and closed his eyes, and when someone tried to take the coat away in exchange for a blanket, he mumbled something that sounded like "Bastard can have it if he stays in the office," and turned over without opening his eyes or releasing his grip.

* * *

When he awoke there was the white ceiling of the dorm above him, and he was still clutching the black fabric of one Roy Mustang's coat, instead of a blanket. Red in the face, he shoved the coat off him, embarrassed that he had acted like a five year old with the coat as his security blanket. He glanced over at his desk, noticed the edge of a folded paper under his watch, and thought that he would probably have to read something like that now. He jumped from his bed and eagerly unfolded the note nonetheless.

_You should thank the weather forecast for claiming there will be no rain today otherwise I might have had to burn you off my coat. But because they said there will be sunshine, I was, as you like to call me, lazy and let it be. Though I hope the fact that today I want an answer about the sleeping on the bench thing won't scare you too much to come to work because it'll probably be raining tomorrow and therefore I'd appreciate it if you gave me back my coat today._

_Sincerely,_

_Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, has carried you to your dorm for the last time._

Edward was a little surprised that there was no mentioning of his clingy behaviour towards the coat, other than that Mustang wanted it back. He read the note again, checking for a joke about _little_ kids and their security blankets, but found nothing. That was odd. Well, maybe the colonel felt like he had already wasted enough energy on Edward to think about some witty comparisons between Ed and a kindergarten kid. Or he was actually being nice. The young alchemist couldn't decide.

Finally, Ed carefully folded the note so he could put it with the rest that were all stuffed between the pages of his journal. Once that was done, he just as carefully folded Mustang's coat and tucked it under his arm before leaving for work after getting ready.

As he walked past the bench, he realised that he felt much better than he ever had after falling asleep there. That might be because he had only missed one night's sleep instead of two, but he had a feeling that there was something else. Though he couldn't for the life of him figure out what that something was.

He walked into HQ and straight to Mustang's outer office. He swallowed as he gazed at its occupants. Were they angry with him, hated him, or thought of him as crazy because of yesterday?

They looked up when he shuffled into the room, and greeted him just like they always did; cheerfully, waving, and yelling across the room when they felt they were too far from the door to be heard if they spoke normally. Ed felt he didn't deserve it.

"Hey, something wrong boss?" Havoc asked, looking at Ed's face in concern.

Ed felt his lip quiver but tried to suppress it. "I'm sorry!" he blurted out, waving his automail a little to show them what he meant. Then he stared at the ground, trying his best not to let the tears free and waited for the others to tell him they didn't care, because they couldn't trust him anymore.

"Hey boss, you don't need to be sorry!" Havoc exclaimed gently. "I put that picture there even though I should have known better, so _I_ should be sorry. And I am."

"And we shouldn't have grabbed you so roughly, but we couldn't think of something else to help you snap out of it," Fuery added softly and Falman and Breda nodded their agreement.

"Everyone does things they don't mean to when they're afraid. It's okay Ed. I mean, we're all fine, aren't we?" Hawkeye came over and lifted his chin so he could see her smile.

He lowered his head again though. "Yeah, 'cause the colonel told you to back off," he murmured.

"The colonel told us to back off so he could get past us and turn that picture over. I don't think he really thought you'd hurt us," Havoc tried again.

Edward sceptically lifted an eyebrow at him. Havoc held his gaze though, not backing down. The younger blond still didn't think that was entirely true, but if Havoc was so set on making him believe it, then maybe he and the rest of the team really weren't angry and really still cared for him. Ed hesitantly smiled a little and, when no one looked angry, it turned into a grin.

"Thanks," he said softly.

"Pfff, just don't beat yourself up over it and we're done." Havoc grinned friendlily around his cigarette.

"_And_ bring me a sandwich."

"Breda!"

"Just kidding!"

They all laughed and watched Havoc try to smack Breda over the head.

* * *

It turned out that the Colonel was called to some meeting, and had to inspect the fire station afterwards, so he wouldn't be in the office until sometime after lunch. Ed didn't know whether to be relieved that he had more time to think about how to approach the matter with the colonel, or whether to just hate it because now he was sitting here, nervous as hell. He tried concentrating on his work.

Hawkeye had suggested putting the colonel's coat with the others on the coat rack in the corner, but Edward kept the still folded coat rested in his lap instead, feeling that he should give it back in person, and hoping that maybe he could cling to it during that dreaded talk. He hated himself for the last thought, but he knew he would need one part of the colonel he could absolutely be sure that wouldn't think badly of him so as to get through this. And if that part was his black coat, so be it.

When Mustang finally walked in, Edward waited until the colonel had greeted everyone and exchanged some information and then wet his lips and stood. Mustang looked a little surprised, but also relieved. He nodded for Ed to follow him, tossed some last orders about work at the others, and went for his private office. Edward walked after him, hugging the coat tightly to his chest.

Even though he just practically stated he was ready to talk and wanted it, he was nervous and had no clue about what to do or say once he was seated in his spot on the couch. There was no way he could explain how he felt, it was just so...he couldn't even understand it himself, so how would Mustang be able to?

He felt the urge to just cover himself with the coat and try to sleep again, but one look at Mustang's face told him that he wouldn't be allowed to.

Roy Mustang wanted answers. And Edward Elric had no doubts that the colonel would get them out of him somehow.

So, defence mechanism number one kicked in. _Go numb..._


	10. Chapter 9 A waiting car

**I hope this is still in character. If not, well I can't think of anything better :(**

**Chapter 9**

**A waiting car**

Edward sat on the couch staring at the colonel, but without really looking at him. His eyes didn't follow Mustang's movements, didn't change focus when the colonel came closer or backed off, and didn't show any sign that their owner was responsive to the world. His ears were deaf to every word, every change in tone, even silence made no difference. His nose only smelled the smoky scent of the coat he was clutching tightly, and his skin just felt its rough fabric. His mouth emitted no sound and merely tasted bitter. The only thought running through his usually bright and alert mind was a monotone mantra along the lines of:

_It will be over soon, just wait a little longer._

That was until the fire flashed around him. He didn't know how long he had just been sitting there happily in his little bubble of numbness, but suddenly there were raging flames around him, threatening to bite into his skin. They were extinguished before they could get a single taste of his flesh, but they still caused his instincts to take over, sending his body into an alert state. His eyes were forced to regain focus. The colonel mercilessly used the moment to catch Edward's eye. He lifted his gloved hand, a wordless threat that another flame would come if Ed dared to avert his gaze.

So Ed kept his eyes locked on Mustang's face. He knew the colonel would sooner or later realise that he was still drowning out his voice, but with the shock spell of the fire gone for now, he didn't really care. Actually, now that he was obliged to look at Mustang's face, he found it was rather interesting, much more interesting than the words that were being spoken.

Mustang was known for keeping his facial expression under control very well. He wouldn't drop his mask unless he was with people he trusted and was really comfortable around, or unless he was caught off guard. Edward used to get really pissed when the man seemingly effortlessly kept his face the way he wanted it, only showing that Ed annoyed him or amused him in any way, but always only when it could not be used against him later. At some point the boy had come to the conclusion that maybe the colonel just didn't know how to shift his expression to anything else than his basic faces any more.

Now though, when he had no choice but to look and wasn't distracted with what Mustang said and how, or was constantly searching the words for hidden or implied short jokes, he could actually see every tiny twitch of every tiny muscle when the colonel restrained them from pulling his face in an expression. Maybe this was the secret of how Hawkeye managed to read him so well.

And because he was so focused on this little movements in the colonel's face, Edward didn't even flinch when another flame was sent his way. He had seen it coming, had seen the minuscule traces of anger and determination that announced it, before the colonel suppressed them. And now he could see the surprise, defeat, _helplessness_, followed by... nothing.

The boy blinked in confusion when the colonel recovered from his shock about Ed ignoring the fire, calmed down and sat back down on his place on the couch - _when had he gotten up?- _adopting the same expression Ed probably wore himself. Blank, utterly blank.

He just sat there, observing Ed over his interlaced fingers and staring at him with unfocused eyes. Now _that _was something Edward _should_ actually be grateful for, because it allowed him to stay in his bubble undisturbed, but it drove him crazy instead. It felt like Mustang was trying to copy him, to _absorb _Ed in order to understand him. An absurd idea, because there was no way Mustang could extract Edward's thoughts from his skull, but still, he felt more than a little uncomfortable. The colonel was supposed to meticulously scrutinise him with those black eyes of his, not _swallow _him!

Edward started to fidget and subconsciously play with the coat. He could hear the clock on the wall ticking as the minutes passed by. Hell, he thought he could hear his pocket watch! And Mustang remained quiet, feeding him his own medicine. Did he make the colonel snap? Did Edward Elric cause Roy Mustang to become exasperated with him so much that he had had enough? It made Edward incredibly nervous, because this was just impossible,_ and_ it had never been his intention! He didn't want to drive the colonel crazy this way! Mustang was smug and annoying and self righteous, but as much as Ed hated to admit it, he knew that in the end the colonel only had the best intentions and was a good man who didn't deserve to end up in a mental ward because Edward couldn't keep himself together.

The boy opened his mouth, tried to say something. He still didn't know how to explain and voice his feelings, but he needed to get a reaction out of the colonel! He could hear the clock still ticking away the precious minutes, shortening the amount of time left until the end of working hours and until he would have to return to the dorms and leave this extremely disturbing version of Mustang sitting here with hopes that Hawkeye could restore the man to his usual self. But he couldn't just do that! That would be just as worse as hurting the colonel with his automail blade and running away afterwards.

Edward glanced at the clock on the wall briefly, realised that only half an hour was left- _just how long had he been ignoring the colonel?_- and started sweating. He needed a solution, he needed _words_, damn it! His breathing increased, his vision blurred, his heart raced and he started feeling light headed, which caused him to sway in his seat. Suddenly, Mustang stood.

"I don't want you to have a panic attack or something," the colonel said calmly, brushing none existent dust from his uniform. "And I need time to think. We'll continue this tomorrow. Now, calm down. I'll give you a ride to the dorms in half an hour. I won't be able to finish my paperwork for today anyway."

Mustang left the private office, and Ed followed him with his gaze. Once the door shut, he pulled his legs up on the couch and forced his body to relax, even though his mind remained pure chaos.

_Don't think about all of it at the same time; don't think about all of it at the same time..._

After a while, he managed to accumulate his thoughts and realised that, because Mustang had snapped out of it, there was no reason for him to panic anymore and, finally, the stress started to slowly but steadily subside. He loosened his grip on the black coat that was still in his lap, and absent-mindedly checked the fabric for damage from his automail hand. Luckily there was none. This somehow calmed him down completely.

He managed to stand without shaking, and even gave the colonel back his coat when Mustang held out his hand for it. The older alchemist sounded like his usual self again, and was planning his schedule for tomorrow with Hawkeye as they walked through the hallways of Central HQ. Ed could see some other soldiers around them stare, whisper, and even snicker when they recognised him. He chose to merely glare at them. The only soldiers whose opinion he would care about at the moment were Hawkeye and Mustang, so he didn't feel bad in the least when he scared the others away with his good ol' 'I'm pissed' look. It actually felt rather nice, nostalgic even, and helped him regain a bit of his lost confidence for a while.

It was raining outside, but they reached one of the black military cars rather quickly. Hawkeye sat in the driver's seat and Mustang in the back seat, leaving Edward to follow his example. He watched the raindrops hit the window and admired the way they built small rivers on the pane when Hawkeye started driving.

The ride was silent and felt like forever, even though the way was actually rather short; a matter of five minutes on a good day. But the rain slowed the traffic, for nobody could see very far, and there were more cars filling the streets than on a sunny day. Pedestrians forced drivers to hit the brakes at least once a minute, since they didn't care where they crossed the streets, as long as it allowed them to get to their dry and warm homes faster. A lost umbrella was blown in their way when the wind picked up and gave an ugly scratching sound as it slid over the car's roof. Edward huddled in his seat, trying his best not to let the bad weather pull him down in his despair even more.

At last, the car parked at the curb in front of the dorms. Mustang nudged Edward with something, and the surprised alchemist turned to find the colonel offering him an umbrella, something that surprised him even more. Hesitantly, but with a small and grateful smile, he took it and turned to the car door. He stared out of the window at the façade of the dorms with dread and gulped. His hands closed around the umbrella tightly.

He didn't want to go back there, didn't want to stay in that horribly familiar room that reminded him of so many things that still hurt too much to think about. He wanted someone with him, to be distracted and to have a chance to become stable and self confident again before facing the past. Edward looked back down at the umbrella and his vision blurred.

"Don't...I don't want to leave the car..." he whispered, trying to chase his courage out of its hideout and make use of it. He had just managed to gather his biggest problems in a few sentences, so he just _needed _to tell them _now_, before everything became complicated again. The umbrella made a cracking sound when he clutched it even tighter. Now or never!

"It...I can't...can't sleep there because...it reminds me of...of Al, and it's too quiet and I...I'm alone but I don't want to, I can't...can't do this, it's...too much of...I hate that room!" he blurted out quickly and squeezed his eyes shut.

Then, Edward held his breath, waiting. He hoped he had managed to make his point, hoped he had used sentences that were coherent enough to understand and, most of all, hoped that Mustang would have a solution to the problem. His lungs had just started to hurt and crave oxygen when finally the tense silence was broken.

"Fix the umbrella."

Edward's head snapped up, and he stared at the colonel with wide, baffled eyes. How could Mustang even think about that damned umbrella right now? Didn't he understand–

"Then, go get your things."

The boy blinked in surprise. Mustang wasn't even looking at him. He had his arms folded in front of his chest and stared at the back of Hawkeye's seat, but the slightly defensive look on his face told Ed that he hadn't imagined the colonel's words. It was a face Mustang pulled when he made a decision and didn't want to be questioned about it. Edward glanced at Hawkeye in the rear-view mirror. She was looking out of the windshield, politely staying out of their business, though Ed could tell that she would start a serious conversation with the colonel the moment he was out of the car.

The young alchemist hesitantly clapped his hands and mended the umbrella. He opened the door, the umbrella ensuing, and made to leave the car, only to halt before he was completely out of the vehicle. What if this was just a trick, what if –

"Don't worry; we won't drive away," Mustang assured calmly, glancing at Ed and nodding for him to go in an encouraging way. "This car will stay right here until you're back in your seat."

Ed bit his lip and locked gazes with Mustang, silently telling the colonel that if he broke this promise, he would never be trusted again. When Mustang didn't back down, Ed turned and left the car. His heart was beating faster than ever as he walked over to the building, anticipating the horrible sound of the awakening engine.

The moment the front door closed behind him, he knew that if they drove away now, he wouldn't be able to hear it any more. This insecurity made adrenaline rush through his veins and he dashed through the hallways, taking two steps at a time as he ascended the stairs until he reached his room. He panicked when he dropped the key in his haste, but finally he managed to open the door. Within a blink he was standing by the small window.

The car was still there.

Ed grabbed the few things he had unpacked and stuffed them in his suitcase. One last glance to make sure he had everything, and the next second he was racing through the hallways again. He forcefully stopped himself when he reached the last corner before the front door. His hectic heartbeat was loud in his ears as he walked the last steps towards the door and threw it open.

And there, right at the curb still parked the black car, lights on so no one would hit it, and the only sound coming from it being the rain drumming its melody on the roof and hood. The engine remained lifeless until he had his suitcase in the trunk and was back in his seat. Only then did he hear the purring sound of the awakening machine.

"I'm guessing you don't want to go to Gracia and Elysia?" The colonel didn't say the Hughes' place and Ed could understand why. Saying the name would only remind them even more that _The _Hughes wasn't with them anymore. The boy shook his head.

"A hotel?"

Another shake of the head.

A moment of silence, pondering options, and making sure the decision was meant.

"Hawkeye, my place, please."

"Sir."

The car started moving and Edward watched as the dorms vanished behind them. Then, he turned and handed the umbrella back to Mustang.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"You're welcome," was the calm answer.

Neither of them was talking about the umbrella.


	11. Chapter 10 A new place

**As always: Thanks for the reviews :) x3**

**Chapter 10**

**A new place**

Edward didn't know whether it was routine or whether Mustang and Hawkeye had talked about it when he was out of the car to get his things from the dorm, but Hawkeye stopped the car at a Xingese restaurant without a word and Mustang got out and came back with two bags filled with food. He handed the smaller one to his lieutenant and she thanked him and rested it on the passenger seat before starting to drive again.

"I hope you like Xingese food," Mustang said after a while, obviously realising that maybe he should have asked that before. Edward nodded. Even if he did like almost every food in the world anyway, he couldn't care less right now. Food was just something needed to stay alive, nothing more.

Mustang nodded and let Ed be. The colonel seemed to be too deep in thought himself to thrive for a real conversation. Or maybe he had just realised that it was futile to try and make Ed talk right now. The young alchemist was nervous; he fiddled with the hem of his red coat, thinking about what had happened and what would be transpiring soon.

Mustang had gotten him out of the dorm. And he would now be staying with the colonel.

Maybe it would be just for the night and tomorrow the colonel would seek out another solution, or maybe it would be for quite a while. He didn't know and he couldn't decide which option he'd prefer. There had been a time when he would have jumped out of the moving car immediately to avoid staying with Mustang longer than it took him to kick his office door open and give a report. But during that time, he still had Al with him and a goal in mind.

He forced the thoughts of Al away. Not now. He needed to get stronger again before facing those memories. Though he wasn't even sure he wanted that. Being a numb vegetable would be so much easier.

He glanced at the colonel from the corner of his eye. Mustang was looking out of the window, elbow propped against the car door and his chin resting on his hand. The other hand held the bag with food feebly on his lap. He looked relaxed, but if he truly was, then he would be sitting in a more comfortable position. The way he was seated now made every bump in the road cause him to nearly hit his head on the windowpane.

The car slowed and eventually stopped, interrupting Ed's analysis of the colonel. Mustang thanked Hawkeye and they bid each other good bye before exiting the car. Ed managed a "bye 'n' thanks" for Hawkeye and followed after him. He noticed it had finally stopped raining as they rounded the car. The colonel opened the trunk and Ed grabbed his suitcase. Nervously, he followed Mustang to the apartment complex. The older man opened the front door and led him to the upper floor. Finally, they stopped in front of one of the doors. Ed took a deep breath to calm himself while Mustang tried to find the right key from the bunch in his hand, without dropping his briefcase and the food he still held. After a moment, he managed to unlock the door.

"Well, here we are. Welcome to my humble home," Mustang said with a shrug and pushed the door open. Ed went in but stopped after just a few steps. He tried not to think like an escape route was blocked when Mustang shut the door behind him.

"You can keep your boots on if they're not too dirty, I don't care, just get comfortable," the colonel informed as he placed the food on the small table next to the door. Ed watched as he pulled off his own boots and shrugged out of his coat and uniform jacket. Some part of him that he hadn't felt in a very long time protested loudly at the thought of taking his platform boots off. Should he allow Colonel_ Bastard _Roy Mustang to see how tall...short...he really was? He inwardly snorted. What a needless thought that was. Mustang would tease him anyway, so what difference would it make? But lately, the colonel _had _acted rather nice, so maybe he would be polite? He finally decided to take off his boots and then he looked around.

Mustang had vanished somewhere, most likely his bedroom. The room Edward was currently standing in was a living room. It held a couch with a coffee table next to it, a desk and a small filing cabinet in the corner. The walls were lined with bookcases and there was a small fireplace. That was pretty much it.

Ed wasn't sure what to think of it. He had guessed that the colonel owned a rather fancy place, but this was quite plain. It was still homey somehow, though. Maybe a better word would be simple instead of plain.

Mustang came out of one of the doors to Ed's left and surprised the younger alchemist just as much as the apartment had. He was wearing a pair of casual black pants and a white button down shirt instead of the dark blue army pants and the light blue uniform dress shirt.

"Sit down somewhere," he said invitingly, gesturing towards the kitchen area to Ed's right side. It was divided from the living room by a counter and held a stove, a sink, some cabinets and a small table with two chairs. Ed did as he was told and took a seat in one of the chairs.

He didn't feel like eating. His stomach was used to his normal, or rather abnormal, eating pattern by now and he was feeling way too uncomfortable. He watched Mustang unpack the food and curled up in himself a little. The colonel seemed much too... well _uncolonel-like _standing in a kitchen without his uniform, and commenting on how happy he was about the food still being warm. Edward didn't know how he was supposed to act around this _person. _It felt like he was with a stranger and that frightened him more than he'd like to admit.

Mustang seemed to catch on Ed being uncomfortable, because he fell silent and simply dished out the food. This didn't make it any better though. Ed would have preferred to hear his voice, even if he once again didn't pay any mind to what words were spoken. Just the familiar sound that assured him that this was still the same colonel was important.

Edward poked at his food as he tried to convince himself that there was no reason to feel like this, and that a change of clothes didn't make a different person out of Mustang. He didn't need another problem on his list, another thing that caused chaos and fear in him because he didn't know how to handle it. After a while, he gave up. He was so used to it; it was really simple for him by now to shut down thinking. And going numb really did the trick, because now he managed to mechanically eat the food in front of him. The fact that this reminded him of his time in Risembool only pulled him deeper to the core of his own little empty world.

Sometime later, his brain seemed to deem Mustang's instructions about where the bathroom was and that he would have to make do with the couch today important enough to be heard. The colonel handed him a blanket and a fluffy cushion.

"Don't worry, the couch is comfortable. I fall asleep on it pretty often and I always sleep fine," he said, as if Ed cared. The Fullmetal Alchemist simply nodded.

"Okay... you don't need to go to sleep right now. If you want you can read one of my books or something. I'll go take a shower, and then I'll be in my room. Call if you need something."

Ed nodded again. Mustang didn't seem very happy about his charge's current state, but then apparently decided that at the moment he couldn't do a thing about it and so he gave a nod of his own and turned to leave the room.

"Good night, Fullmetal. I'll wake you up for work tomorrow," he said before closing the door.

Edward sat on the couch for a while, just waiting for time to go by like he usually did when he was sitting on his bed in Risembool. The boy looked out of the window and dimly realised that here killing time was even easier, because watching the busy streets of Central was far more distracting than the quiet fields of his hometown. He blinked and frowned.

Why was he killing time at the moment? He wasn't in Risembool, meaning _that_ kind of pain couldn't harm him right now. And he wasn't in the dorms, either. This place was just an apartment, a place that was _new_ to him and not tainted with memories, because it didn't resemble all the places he had stayed at with Al. It meant he could..._relax._

Edward went and got his suitcase from where it still stood by the door. He was still hesitant, but fished out his sleepwear nonetheless. During the last few weeks he had been sleeping in whatever he was wearing when Mustang dropped him off at the dorms, but now, he was awake and willing to change. The distant sound of water running ceased. Ed gathered his toothbrush, and then waited. After half an hour he came to the conclusion that the bathroom must have two doors, one of them leading to Mustang's bedroom. Just to be sure, he knocked but when no-one answered, he went in. The room did have two doors indeed. It was still warm, and there was still some fog on the mirror, but Ed didn't mind. He hadn't dared to really look into a mirror for quite some time now. Quickly, he got ready for bed.

Careful not to leave any evidence that he had been there, he left the bathroom, switched off all the lights and sauntered to the couch. The blanket Mustang had given him was thick and soft and perfect to wrap around himself like a cocoon. He lay down and snuggled into the pillow. Letting his eyes trace the outlines of the furniture in the dim light the night sky outside of the window provided, he felt his eyelids starting to droop. For once though, he didn't mind.

Even with his eyes closed he could still be sure that he was neither in the dorms nor in Risembool and that he wouldn't wake up to loneliness and hurt again, because the blanket didn't smell like Granny Pinako's laundry detergent or like the cheap one they used in the dorms and there was the faint scent of leather from the couch. So he breathed in deeply and smiled a little before sleep took over him.

* * *

Edward awoke to someone tapping his shoulder in a really obnoxious manner and a rather sleepy voice talking to him.

"Come ooon, wake up! It's hard enough to drag myself out of bed in the morning, I don't have the energy to motivate you, too!"

He pulled his blanket tighter around himself, not willing to let the best sleep he had had in what felt like ages go. There was an exasperated sigh and the tapping stopped. He thought he had won, but:

"MAJOR ELRIC, AT ATTENTION!"

The boy yelped, jumped and fell off the couch. Colonel Roy Mustang barking in his professional military voice at the top of his lungs could do that to you. Edward stared at the man, bright red in the face. What the hell was he doing he-...oh, yes, he was in Mustang's apartment. Blushing even harder, he slowly got off the floor. Mustang yawned innocently and marched over to the kitchenette.

"Get ready, Hawkeye might not lecture _you_ for being late, but she'll definitely lecture _me,"_ he grumbled as he opened the coffee machine.

Still not completely over his shock about how Mustang could yell like that without being fully awake himself, Ed grabbed his things and rushed over to the bathroom. At the door, he stopped, looking back to Mustang. The colonel lazily waved a hand, "Go ahead, take a shower, whatever, just be ready at quarter to eight. Or better some time before, if you want breakfast." Ed nodded and went in the bathroom, leaving Mustang to glare at his coffee machine, for it obviously worked too slowly for the sleepy colonel.

When Ed exited the bathroom, fully dressed and still damp hair in the usual braid, the colonel was watching the scrambled eggs cook, a cup of coffee in his left hand, a spatula in his right. With breakfast it was the same like with dinner. Even though the scent of coffee and eggs made his stomach react somehow, Ed didn't want to get used to food in the morning again. He didn't know how long the colonel would keep him here, so he didn't want to change his pattern just yet. That's why he decided not to intrude and sat on the couch, intending to just wait there until they left for work. Mustang looked up from the eggs and over to Ed, smirking a little.

"Since when have you been so shy, Fullmetal?" the still sleepy colonel teased but instantly dropped his smirk and realised his mistake. They both knew very well when Edward had become _shy_ and much more importantly, _why. _Ed sat still, clenching his hands to fists and Mustang bit his lip, all traces of sleep vanishing from his face. There was silence for a while. The colonel took the eggs off the stove and grabbed two plates.

"Breakfast?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft. Ed knew Mustang was sorry and he was aware he wouldn't have managed a better apology himself, so he nodded and shuffled over to the kitchen table, accepting it. Mustang put a plate with eggs in front of him, and then added the toast that had just popped out of the toaster.

"Coffee?" he offered and Ed shook his head.

"Milk?" _That_ actually got a glare out of the boy.

"Orange juice?" Ed thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. Mustang got a glass and filled it with juice, then put it next to Ed's plate.

"Bon appetite," the colonel murmured and they started eating. Ed didn't really want to, but he finished his whole plate nonetheless. His stomach didn't seem to care about his "don't get used to breakfast "attitude. And he had to admit, only to himself of course, that the eggs tasted quite good.

When they finished, Mustang mechanically did the dishes. The years at military academy had probably drilled the fact that kitchen duty was necessary into his head very well. When finished, the colonel put on his uniform jacket and attached the skirt things to his pants. He grabbed his briefcase and keys and waved for Ed to follow. Edward had nothing to grab besides some cash for lunchtime. He stuffed it into his jacket and the two left the apartment.

A middle aged woman exited the apartment next door, crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at Mustang.

"Sorry 'bout the yelling, but I had to wake him for work," Roy apologised with a sheepish smile and pointed his thump at Ed. Once again Ed felt himself blush. The woman saw the blushing boy standing next to the colonel awkwardly, and smiled.

"Just don't do it again," she said with a friendly shrug.

"Sure, ma'am, this was the first and the last time," Mustang assured her with a quick and polite bow. She giggled and went back into her apartment.

His breakfast felt like a stone in Edward's stomach. _The first and the last time._ So he wouldn't be staying with the colonel longer than necessary after all. It was an emergency solution that he had been allowed to stay for the night and today he would be brought somewhere else. He wanted to bring his breakfast back up, but forced himself to walk after the colonel instead, staring at the man's heels for he couldn't bring himself to lift his head.

Edward cursed himself for being so weak that one peaceful night of sleep and breakfast with some kind of company was enough to make him want to stay with Mustang.


	12. Chapter 11 Assumptions and rumours

**And here goes the next chapter. Thanks for all the support and reviews :)**

**Chapter 11**

**Assumptions and Rumours**

They walked the ten minutes to HQ. Mustang explained that he usually did so because he wanted to enjoy as much fresh air as possible before Hawkeye held him captive in the office. He had offered to call a cab if Ed didn't want to walk, but the younger alchemist absentmindedly declined. Ed was used to walking everywhere and didn't feel like bothering Mustang any more than necessary.

During their silent walk, his brain had somehow come up with the theory that maybe if he showed the colonel that he wasn't just a nuisance he would change his mind and allow Ed to stay with him longer. The boy could sense that something about these thoughts was stupid, but his theory wouldn't hurt anybody, so he might just as well try.

When they entered the office though, he saw that the phase of drowning in paperwork had come to an end. The stacks of paperwork on the desks of Mustang's team were much smaller than last week's and all the soldiers were sitting there rather relieved. Ed, however, didn't feel relieved in the slightest. If they only had a small amount of paperwork, then he wouldn't be able to prove himself useful again but, instead, he would be redundant. His shoulders slumped. He received some curious glances from the others that inquired if he was all right, and he nodded at them, a small smile gracing his lips. Maybe he could find something new to do once he was done with his papers?

He started working, clinging to this small piece of hope.

* * *

Edward finished his work just before lunch break. He waited the few minutes the others needed to get ready, and then made to follow them to the mess hall. However, he stopped when he registered that the number of people leaving the office was wrong. He tapped Havoc on the shoulder and nodded towards Mustang's office with a questioning glance.

"If he's not out by now, then he's gonna skip lunch. He sometimes does that when he's got paperwork that allows no more procrastinating. And since he didn't finish anything yesterday I'm guessing that's the case." Havoc said with a shrug. "Don't worry though, Hawkeye will bring him a sandwich and force him to eat it."

Ed nodded and, with a last glance towards Mustangs office, he followed the others. He didn't pay any attention to their conversation, however. He was busy thinking maybe that was the reason why Mustang wouldn't want to keep Ed with him. Ed was too much of a bother and work. The colonel hated paperwork and today he even had to skip lunch to do it because Edward had kept him from finishing his stuff yesterday. The young alchemist figured that there was no other way he could have ruined his relationship with the colonel more efficiently than forcing bureaucracy upon him on an empty stomach, except for trying to kill him maybe.

So when they reached the office again, and he watched Hawkeye bring a sandwich over to their commander, he felt really bad. And because he had all of his work done there was no way for him to distract himself from that feeling. He simply stared at his desk. There were two ways he could go now.

Number one: become numb – so easy, so efficient.

Number two: Try to find something else to do that is productive and useful. Much more difficult, but he longed to get in the colonel's good graces again even if the chance that Mustang would change his mind about letting Ed stay with him was slim.

Ed pondered his two options. Basically, it was a choice between running away and hiding or facing it and doing something about it. He pursed his lips in a firm line and straightened his back. Edward once thought that he wasn't a person to run from things and it was time to try and consider this again. It would most likely be something trivial and would probably crumble again when the moment was over, but just for a second he wanted to taste who he had been and who he could be once more when he managed to pull himself together again.

So, he stood and went over to Mustang's private office. He didn't have a plan about what exactly he was going to do once he was in, because just convincing himself to make it through the door was difficult, but he had to do it somehow. At last, Ed took a deep breath and slipped into the room.

The colonel was scribbling on some paper, looking rather grumpy as he finished the form and immediately grabbed another, absent-mindedly swallowing the last bite of the sandwich Hawkeye had brought him. Edward watched for a second, and then shuffled over to the desk. The colonel looked up once his attention had been caught. To Ed's surprise his face brightened up a little when he realised who was standing in front of him.

"What can I do for you Fullmetal?" he asked almost cheerfully.

_Probably just happy that he has a reason to pause with his paperwork_, Ed thought sadly.

The boy looked over the small paper towers on Mustang's desk. He knew Havoc said he couldn't, but he wanted to help somehow. He reached for some of the files, his hand hovering over the papers as he looked at Mustang questioningly. The colonel blinked, surprised. He looked from the paper to Ed and back, obviously trying to figure out whether he had gotten it right. Edward frowned a bit. Was it really so surprising that he wanted to help the colonel? Probably yes, considering the way he used to laugh at Mustang and call him lazy when he complained about how much paperwork Ed had brought upon him. Maybe Mustang didn't want to have to put up with Ed in his apartment because he was resentful? Though it had seemed like some sort of amicable banter at that time... He was pulled from his thoughts when Mustang managed to get over his surprise.

"That's a really nice offer, but you posses neither the rank nor the military knowledge for these. And they've got to be read whole," the colonel said, looking a bit contrite.

Ed's face dropped. With a sigh, he looked at the ground and nodded, feeling whatever hope he had built up before entering the office vanish.

"But..." Mustang started slowly and Ed looked up again, clinging to the single word that suggested something good might still be to come. The colonel regarded his papers thoughtfully. "If you want to and have nothing better to do, then you could take those I have already finished and file them away in the right cabinets or sort them out according to the offices they'll be sent to. I'm sure Hawkeye won't mind explaining how it's done."

Edward nodded vigorously and took the stack of papers Mustang had subconsciously pointed his pen at. He grinned brightly and went to go and ask Hawkeye about what to do with them, leaving a baffled-looking Mustang behind.

The others looked a bit confused about how Ed had entered Mustang's office rather gloomily and came out grinning. They were used to seeing it the other way around. But then, a lot of aspects in Ed's behaviour had changed drastically since Al's death, so they shrugged their confusion away and grinned too, obviously happy for Ed even though they didn't even know the reason for the boy's smile.

Seeing that he had somehow brightened the mood of the other occupants of the office made Ed feel a warmth he hadn't had felt for quite a while. He hadn't made someone smile or grin this happily for what felt like ages. It was a good feeling.

The pleasant mood in the office was dampened somehow, however, when Havoc returned from what he had called a "latrine break" even though everybody knew he was out for a proper smoke. The usually easy going lieutenant was looking rather grim.

"Ya know, I hate to blow the whistle on someone, but this shit is getting serious," he growled.

"They're gossiping again?" Breda wanted to know, immediately catching on to what Havoc was talking about.

"Yes. The same jerk responsible, too. Think the colonel should know about this."

The other officers in the office looked up and became serious.

"I do believe the colonel knows already, just not about the new extends of it," Falman informed.

"And even if he didn't, no one's gonna blame you, Havoc. Enough is enough. That ass had it coming if he spread such a rumour. Get the colonel out here, I think this calls for an intervention," Breda said.

Havoc looked over to Hawkeye, who nodded. The blond male went over to Mustang's door and knocked.

"Hey Colonel? You mind coming out for a minute? We got some stuff to tell that might be interesting for you."

A moment later Mustang came out and went over to his smaller desk in the outer office, casually leaning against it. "Well, then tell me. Must be important if you call me out like that," he said and raised an eyebrow in question.

"You know about this rumour concerning you and the boss?" Havoc asked.

Mustang nodded and furrowed his brow, waiting.

"Well, it's going round again, only this time people tend to believe it 'cause you took the boss in with you yesterday."

Mustang kept his expression so carefully blank that it was already obvious how angry he was. "Is that so?" he asked, an edge in his voice that caused goosebumps to rise on Ed's skin.

"Yup and it's the same guy, Havoc caught him red handed again," Breda added, looking grim.

Mustang's eyes narrowed. "Mind telling me who?"

"Usually I'd hate to, but in this case: It's Fregatte, the Lieutenant from the office next door," Havoc answered, pointing his thumb at the wall to his right. There was a moment of heavy silence.

"I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Sir!" Hawkeye called after him, but Mustang was already out of the door. The Lieutenant looked like she wanted to follow for a moment, but then decided to wait. She began pacing the office.

"I think you just killed Lieutenant Fregatte," Fuery told Havoc, looking rather scared.

Havoc shrugged. "It's his fault, that disgusting creep."

Ed looked from one soldier to the other. What was going on here? He was part of a rumour? A rumour that got Mustang pissed? He went to Havoc and tapped him on the shoulder, looking at him questioningly.

"Oh, you wanna know what's going on?" the older blond asked sheepishly. "Weeellll...how do I explain it best?" Havoc looked like he didn't want to explain at all, but finally decided that Ed had a right to know. "Uh you see that guy Fregatte hates the colonel..."

"Probably 'cause Mustang stole his girlfriend," Breda snickered and received various glares for making fun of the situation.

"Anyway..." Havoc continued, "When the chief started to carry you back to the dorms, Fregatte started some ugly rumour. It wasn't that dangerous at first because...well, the colonel has his reputation with the women. But now that you stayed over with him during the night people have started thinking about it. That might make the higher ups ask some questions and this would cost the colonel some points he made up there."

Ed didn't stop looking questioningly and Havoc seemed to finally accept his fate. "The rumour Fregatte is spreading says that...well... let me put it this way: The colonel got bored with the ladies and found himself a new toy. Said toy is you."

Edward stared at him in utter shock and disgust. He looked around at the others, hoping someone would tell him that this was a sick joke. But they all looked grim and serious. Ed shuddered.

"Stupid..." he choked out, "Disgusting and stupid. Not true."

"That's what we think," Fuery piped up shyly.

But Ed wasn't listening any more. He just had a sad and frightening revelation:

This rumour was a perfectly legitimate reason for Mustang to get Ed out of his apartment.

And Ed could neither do something about it nor be angry at the colonel for it.

It went unnoticed by Ed when the office door opened again and a rather smug looking Mustang walked in. He didn't hear Hawkeye's stern question "What did you do, sir?" and he didn't see the jaws of the others fall to the floor when Mustang stopped at the door to his inner office, smirked his most sinister smirk over his shoulder and answered: "Listen to the rumours," before closing the door.

* * *

Edward more or less woke from his state of numbness when the colonel tapped him on the shoulder.

"Time to go," he said.

_What a fitting thing to say_, Ed thought as he stood to follow the older alchemist out of the office.

The drive to Mustang's apartment passed by in blur as Ed desperately tried to think about how he could stop Mustang from ordering him to get his things again once the vehicle stopped in front of the apartment complex. He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the dreaded words when they stopped at the curb, but all he heard was a slightly concerned, "Are you coming Fullmetal?"

A moment of hope, but it subsided fast when he recalled that Mustang was the one who had the keys and probably didn't want to trust Ed with them. His feet felt like lead as he followed the colonel._ Well, technically one of them is made of something like lead_, he thought miserably.

When he stepped in the apartment and still couldn't think of something that would make Mustang let him stay, he gave up. He went over to the couch to grab his suitcase and carried it to the door, waiting for Mustang to follow him out to where the car was probably still waiting for them. He just wanted to get it over with before it broke him.

"You want to go?"

The question startled and confused him. Ed stared at Mustang who looked a little confused himself and also...was he _sad_? The boy blinked, and then bit his lip. He lowered his gaze and slowly shook his head. He had nothing to lose any more, so why not admit that he wanted to stay with Mustang? Anxiously, he waited for the colonel to laugh, to make some stupid comment about how he was not going to put up with Ed without receiving anything but stupid rumours in return, just because Ed finally learned that he was nothing but a little brat who couldn't get along without an adult to look after him.

"Then why are you standing in the doorway with your suitcase in your hand?" Mustang asked, now even more confused. Ed nervously switched the suitcase from one hand to another. He needed to say something! Why did words have to be the key to things so often?

"You said...it was the first and the last time you woke me and...and that rumour..."

He couldn't force anything else out. Mustang was laughing. That cruel bastard had just wanted him to say out loud what a nuisance he was. And now that he finally stopped laughing he would deal the final blow.

"You think I'll kick you out? I meant that I just wouldn't wake you with yelling anymore! Ever heard of a bucket full of water? As for that rumour, don't worry about it. That guy will only speak about how great the two of us are from today on."

Edward's suitcase dropped to the floor, along with his jaw. He watched with wide eyes and a baffled expression as Mustang became very serious.

"I won't stop you if you want to go. But I'd rather you put that suitcase back on the couch and eat with me before we figure out how to set up your room here for you," the colonel said, grabbing the bag with today's take out from where he had put it so he could shrug off his coat. "It's your choice." With that, Mustang turned and left for the kitchen, leaving Ed to decide what he wanted to do.

Needless to say that Edward practically flew across the room to put his suitcase back in its place. He smiled as he sat down at the kitchen table and watched Mustang unpack the food.

His assumptions had been wrong.

He could stay.

One day, he decided, he might just give the damn bastard colonel a hug.


	13. Chapter 12 Interruptions

******...if you're happy and you know it clap your hands...**

*******read your reviews, clap my hands very much***

******I'm not sure if this story can be rated K+ any more...should I change it to T?**

******Chapter 12**

******Interruptions**

When they finished the food, the colonel led Ed over to the room next to the kitchen. The door actually creaked as he pulled it open.

"Oh, gotta fix this," Mustang said before poking his head in the room like someone who explored new territory. He obviously deemed the place safe, because a moment later he stepped in and motioned for Ed to follow. The room was empty besides an unused bookshelf and a just as unused desk, everything covered in a thick layer of dust.

"This room was supposed to be my study one day. As you can see though, I never had the time to set it up as such and when I came to like my desk in the living room the motivation was gone as well." The colonel shrugged. "Well, comes in handy now. I think once we clean it up and get some more furniture it could be a nice room for you." He looked at Ed for his opinion.

Edward looked around with big eyes. A room for him. Mustang was willing to share his apartment with him. Letting him stay on the couch was something Ed had been able to grasp, but a real room just seemed unbelievable. It meant the colonel wasn't just taking pity on him until he got bored. No, it meant that Mustang felt determined to pull through helping Ed. Too good to be true. He looked at the colonel, eyes still wide, the question whether this was really meant written all over his face. Mustang graced him with one of his rare true smiles.

Ed didn't know what to do or say. This was so...he couldn't describe it because there were so many kinds of good feelings at the same time he couldn't pick out a specific one. But he wanted to say something, to___ do _something to show Mustang the happy chaos inside of him. So he turned towards the colonel, lifted his foot to step over to him, and the phone rang.

Both alchemists jumped. "That better be important!" Mustang growled as he went back into the living room and practically ripped the earpiece from its cradle. "Mustang speaking!" he said in a very icy form of polite.

Ed sighed. The moment was ruined. He shuffled back into the living room too and sat down on the couch. At least the phone call seemed to be important, judging by Mustang's serious face. He watched the colonel jot down some information and promise he'd be there in a few moments. At last, Mustang placed the phone back down and combed his fingers through his hair.

"There has been another murder," he explained with a sigh. "I need to go there and it will take some time until I'm back. You don't have to wait for me though, you can go to sleep and I'll just sneak in quietly when we're done with the crime scene."

Ed nodded his understanding. Mustang nodded back and went to fetch his uniform jacket. Because of Ed thinking he had to leave, the colonel hadn't changed out of his uniform before eating, so his jacket was all he had to grab. He put it on and went over to the door. When Mustang walked past the couch, he extended a hand and ruffled Ed's hair without stopping in his steps.

"We'll start with the room on the weekend," he told the baffled boy, smiling ever so slightly.

Ed sat and stared as the colonel waved once over his shoulder and left the apartment. Slowly, he lifted his left hand and patted his hair, smoothing out his bangs just to check whether they had really been tousled by the colonel. He smiled when he realised that his hair indeed was in disarray. However, his smile changed into a scowl soon enough. The bastard had flattened his antennae!

But then, he hadn't done it to mock Ed, so Edward wouldn't be resentful. He just made the hair stick up again and continued smiling. And when two hours later the colonel tiptoed back into the apartment, he fell asleep with the first nice dream since his brother died.

* * *

He woke to Mustang poking him in the shoulder and telling him to get up. Remembering the comment about a bucket full of water, he chose to sit up and show he was awake. They were mostly silent until they reached HQ, apart from the occasional comment or question from the Colonel concerning breakfast. But somehow neither of them really minded walking next to the other in silence because it wasn't tense, but an amicable sort of it.

They all did their work and when Ed was through with his papers he resumed his task of yesterday and filed away whatever the colonel finished.

"Huh, he actually got the colonel to work without complaining!" Breda said, baffled and watched Ed grab the next paper.

"Apocalypse is near," Fuery whispered in fear.

The four male subordinates looked over at Hawkeye who watched as the colonel finished paper after paper just to keep Ed busy with a really funny expression somewhere between surprise and jealousy that even left Falman grinning in amusement. Until Hawkeye glared at them that is.

Sometime after lunch Havoc retreated from the office for his "latrine-break" and Breda and Falman followed to actually go to use the bathroom. When they came back, they all looked rather amused.

"Colonel, you are pure evil," Breda explained when Mustang raised a questioning eyebrow at the man.

"Now, if that was true then the rumour wouldn't have been a lie," the colonel said dryly.

"Okay, you're just partly evil." Breda grinned.

"The bigger part! How dare you abuse your gift like that!" Havoc howled in an exaggerated way.

"What did he do?!" Hawkeye immediately asked, sensing her chance to find out what had happened to one Lieutenant Fregatte. Havoc and Breda just snickered darkly so she looked at Falman.

"Apparently, the colonel walked into the office next door and asked for Lieutenant Fregatte. When the man was pointed out to him, the colonel told him the reason he was there and then proceeded to give him a logical and reasonable lecture about just why those rumours are not true and that there would be a court martial if Fregatte ever dared to tell such lies about a superior officer again, effectively making Fregatte look bad in front of everyone," Falman explained.

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. "This seems like pretty mature behaviour, I can't see why you're snickering like idiots."

"Well, it seems like the colonel finished setting things right by telling Fregatte that if what he just said wasn't enough to shut him up, then the colonel would show him just how tired of women he is by stealing every single girlfriend Fregatte will ever have away from him until the day the colonel got married," Falman told. "Afterwards, he apologised to Fregatte's commanding officer for distracting his subordinates and came back here."

Hawkeye blinked. "Is this a joke?"

"Not when it comes from___ him_," Havoc said, dramatically pointing a finger at Mustang, who watched them all with a look of fake innocence on his face.

"From what I heard everyone thinks that Fregatte's got no chance against the colonel when it comes to women." Falman pulled out the bet book that included the bets that were not only office intern, sensing a chance to make money.

"He'll pull it off without a problem; we ___all _have no chance against ___him_!" Havoc whined on.

"Yeah, especially ___you_!" Breda laughed. Havoc slumped, an aura of depression around him.

Hawkeye shook her head and sighed. "You men really are strange creatures." She looked at Mustang. "Just date the girls at least three times before you dump them!" she then demanded.

"Will do," Mustang said with an indifferent shrug.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was a soldier from investigations who brought a new file for them.

"Seems like Erlking and Beagle are off the hook. Both of them were still in custody when yesterday's murder took place," Havoc explained once he had overcome his depression and thumped through the new papers.

"That means we're back to nothing," Hawkeye asserted, not very happy.

There was a moment of silence. Ed thoughtfully stared at the papers in Havoc's hand and thought about what he knew about the case. Now all the people on the list were off the hook. He furrowed his brow. They had a list of people who borrowed it during the last five years, but...

He looked at Mustang and said, "Old."

The colonel blinked and scowled slightly. "As much as I appreciate it that you find it in yourself to joke about me again, this was neither creative nor the right moment Fullmetal."

"The book!" Ed clarified indignantly.

"You mean because it's old there should be people who borrowed it before the last five years?"

Ed nodded but Mustang shook his head. "The book has been buried in the military archives before, ever since the guy who put it there no-one was allowed to look at it. It was first taken out of the archives when the military searched for useful alchemy in warfare dur-..." Mustang trailed off and his eyes widened. "I'm an idiot!" He turned to Ed "How did you know about the existence of the book?"

"You...told...me," Ed answered, confused.

"Exactly! We looked for the people who obviously read the book but not for those who recommended it to them and therefore know about its contents too! I know about it because I knew the guy who was asked to research it for arrays useful in mass extermination. What if someone else talked to that alchemist and got more information from him than me?!"

The colonel stopped pacing.

"Fuery!" he barked.

The young soldier jumped and stood at attention. "Yes, sir?!"

"I need a really, ___really _safe phone line."

"Uh the safest I can think of is the one in my apartment," Fuery said.

"Good, let's go." Mustang fished a small black notebook from his briefcase that was commonly known to hold all the phone numbers of the girls he conquered, though his trusted ones knew that it held much more. He turned to walk out of the office, but halted and stuffed the notebook back into the briefcase and fished out something else instead. It was his bunch of keys. He selected one and walked over to Ed, holding it out for the boy to see.

"Working hours are almost ending so it would be useless for me to come back into the office when I'm done with that call. So how about you meet me at the apartment? This is the right key. I'll get some food on the way and be back by the time we usually arrive there, I think."

Edward nodded and took the key like it was something really precious. Even though he would be able to pick it out again easily, he kept it in his hand, not wanting to let it slip back between the others.

"See you later then," Mustang said, then grabbed his briefcase and marched to the door. "I'll update you all on my findings tomorrow, have a nice evening. Sargent Fuery!"

"Coming, sir!"

And the two black haired men left.

* * *

Hawkeye drove Edward back to the colonel's place. The boy mumbled a "thanks" and smiled at her before leaving the car and making his way up to Mustang's apartment. He put the key he still held into the lock and turned it. It felt a little strange to walk into Mustang's place without the colonel there. He closed the door behind him and put the keys onto the small table next to it, the one that Mustang always dumped his things on when he pulled off his boots and jacket, and left them there.

Ed got rid of his boots and coat and flicked on the lights in the living room. He looked around, not really sure about what to do now. At last, he did what was always a safe thing to do; he sat on the couch and stared at the bookcase in front of him. When he realised he was subconsciously squinting to read the titles on the books' spine, he decided to have a look at them and stood.

Soon he was walking from bookshelf to bookshelf, reading every title. The colonel owned a few novels that looked rather untouched, probably gifts he didn't dare throw away, and a really amazing collection of alchemy books. One might think that all of these books were related to flame alchemy, but if there were so many about this alchemy branch, then people wouldn't always wonder where the colonel found out about the secrets of this dangerous and difficult technique. So instead there were some standard books, some really rare exemplars, some new additions and some out of print books, all of them featuring other aspects of the alchemical science.

Ed was especially fascinated by one of the standard books. It was one of the oldest and most worn exemplars he had ever seen. Carefully, he pulled the book, which was a classic for beginners of alchemy, from the shelf. He thought that maybe he shouldn't do this, but then the colonel had allowed him to read his books the day before, so why not today?

Once he was about to open it though he halted his curiosity again. Mustang was an exceptional alchemist, so he must have kept it and read so often through this really simple book because it had some personal value for him. Should Ed pry into that? Well, he could argue that the colonel didn't limit which books he was allowed to read, but then the man probably didn't think that this elementary book would be interesting for someone as advanced as Ed.

Staring at the book while trying to decide, the boy realised that it looked like some things had been stuffed between the pages. Now, even a depressed and insecure Edward Elric could only take so much before giving in to curiosity. He opened the book.

Things were scribbled on the pages, additions that helped while learning. Notes were there too but Edward ignored them all because of the last sheet of paper that had been put in the book.

The things written down there were far from the beginner transmutation circles that were stuck between.

___Water_

No harm, but...

___Carbon._

20 kg, his brain added mechanically.

___Ammonia :_4 l.

___Lime: _1.5 kg.

___Phosphorus: _800 g.

___Salt: _250 g.

___Saltpeter: _100 g.

___Sulfur: _80 g.

___Fluorine: _7.5 g.

___Iron: _5 g.

___Silicon: _3 g.

The book dropped from his hands but he didn't need it to know that the list went on with the minuscule amounts of 15 other elements. The paper fluttered to the ground as well showing the array on its other side. It was the one for human transmutation. It was roughly sketched, but enough to make him shake. Ed's legs gave out and he dropped next to the book, staring at the circle.

The curved lines seemed to laugh at him, screaming all his failures in his face. However, the array was slightly different from the one he had used; like most alchemists, the one who had drawn it had tried to alter it and make the difference that would finally make it work. He followed the lines with his eyes. What if this one was a success? What if it was the ultimate array, the one that had what Edward's array lacked?

Ed needed to test it, needed to find out whether he could bring Al back. He still possessed one arm and leg he could pay with and he would gladly give them if he just got his brother back. Jumping over to the desk, he rifled through it, searching for chalk and finding some a minute later. It was crazy but he didn't care that he had none of the ingredients on the list; his hazy mind concluded that if they were the key to the transmutation, then it wouldn't have failed on him twice. So he knelt in the relatively wide space between the couch and the front door of the apartment and started drawing the array shakily from the paper that was clutched tightly in his sweaty hand.

He knew he could die and he knew Al would be furious if there was an afterlife for them to meet in, but he didn't care. Al had been able to forgive him for talking him into the first transmutation and putting him in the armour so he surely would forgive Ed for wanting to be with him again too, right? Right? It had to be right! He frantically drew the last line, and then stood, looking everything over, his eyes hastily darting from line to line. It is said that three is a special number, so this third transmutation must be it! It had to be! And if it wasn't then it would at least end his suffering.

So he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, knelt down and held his hands out, bringing them down.

He was grabbed around the middle and yanked backwards roughly enough to press the air from his lungs. Was this how it felt to be pulled in the gate and be torn apart completely like Al had been? He didn't know, but he needed to see if he had failed, so he opened his eyes.

The circle wasn't glowing! Why wasn't it glowing?! Why was he pulled away by these hands if the circle wasn't glowing? This was wrong, something was horribly wrong! He lurched forwards, trying to reach the circle, to activate it again and set things right, but he was pulled back again. He heard a voice but he blocked it out, all that was important now was the circle that wasn't glowing. The air was completely pressed out of him when the grip around him tightened, causing his vision to blur and increase his panic. A thought shot through his light headed mind. What if the circle had been glowing while his eyes were closed, what if he had brought something back and that something was angry now, trying to kill him for daring to open the gate again?! What if the gate had sent some monster after him to properly punish him before he was killed?!

It wasn't logical, it was a stupid, childish fear, but he was in panic, oxygen deprived and desperate. He stared at the circle, and tried to fight even more to get there for it was all that was still clear to him right now. He needed to reach it and try what he could to get to Al and nothing sent by the gate would stop him.

So he clapped his hands, turned and leashed out with his blade.


	14. Chapter 13 Aftermath

**Hahaha I do (not) apologize for the cliffhanger-torture ^^**

**This story shall be rated T from now on. I am (really) sorry to disappoint those of you who only read K/K+**

**Chapter 13**

**Aftermath**

So he clapped his hands, turned and leashed out with his blade.

The blood was the first thing that made it through Ed's panicked and blurred vision. Dripping and red.

Red that was soaking through blue. Blue cloth. Military blue cloth. Military Uniform.

_...Truth didn't have black, tousled hair, didn't wear a blue uniform..._

His eyes widened as it hit him.

If Colonel Roy Mustang hadn't pulled back and raised his arm to protect himself in time, then Edward Elric would have slashed his throat.

The Colonel stood frozen, his eyes just as wide as Ed's. Slowly, like he couldn't believe what had just happened, he looked down at his bleeding right arm. He must be shocked, for he didn't say a word. He just looked at it like someone who just saw a God he didn't believe in and now was trying to figure out whether he had been hallucinating.

One part of Ed's mind was just screaming in a high pitched, pained and desperate tone while the other, barely able to make itself be heard, told him he needed to help, needed to do something about the wound he just inflicted. He stepped forward, and raised a hesitant hand but Mustang stepped back, away from him.

Ed needed a moment to understand that in his stupidity he had raised his automail hand, still equipped with the blade. The blade that was now smudged with the colonel's blood. He stared at it in shock. He had raised it against a friend, someone who only wanted to help him. Had raised it against Mustang, who just backed away from him like he was expecting Ed to want revenge for interrupting his human transmutation. Ed didn't know whether he wanted to scream, to cry or throw up.

He backed away from Mustang until he was almost standing in the transmutation circle on the floor. This seemed to bring life back in the colonel. The pale face looked up, having an empty expression that told nothing about the thoughts running behind the façade. He turned, marched over to the kitchen and grabbed a clean towel from the stack under the sink before tying it around his arm. Once he was done he pulled a bowl from the cabinet and filled it with water. He snatched a rag before taking the bowl and carried it over to the array on the ground.

The water splashed on the floor, effectively smudging the array. Ed flinched at the sudden sound. Without a word or a look at Ed, Mustang knelt and started to scrub at the array. He slowed his movements when he came closer to Edward, but didn't stop. Edward could see the colonel's muscles tense though, like he was waiting for Ed to try and defend his array once Mustang was within his reach.

A few drops of blood fell from the makeshift bandage around Mustang's arm, but he just wiped it away with the water and the chalk, his face still blank. Once again Edward felt the urge to help, to wipe away the array himself and erase his horrible mistake. But the way Mustang got ready to jump backwards when Ed made a step towards him left the boy frozen. He remained like a statue, automail arm stiff at his side, until Mustang had finished cleaning the floor and stood.

The colonel went over to the book Edward had dropped on the floor when he found the transmutation circle on the note within it. He picked it and the various papers that had fallen from it up, stuffed the notes back in and closed it, not caring that the blood he dripped on it would glue the pages together once it dried. With the book tucked underneath his uninjured arm, the colonel brought the bowl and the rag back to the kitchen. Afterwards he made his way to the bathroom. It would have been much faster to just walk past Ed, but Mustang chose the longer way and walked around the couch.

Ed stared at the colonel's back as he vanished through the bathroom door. He remained in this position for a while, only now he was looking at the closed door, tears brimming in his eyes. Blinking them back, he dropped his gaze, but now it fell on the bloody automail blade. Ed swallowed hard and then ran over to the kitchen. He held the blade in the sink, watching water run over it for what seemed like hours. After a while he managed to pull it away, dry it and transmute it back.

Shaking, he made his way across the water and chalk smudged floor, collapsed on the couch and cried himself to sleep.

* * *

Mustang talked and yawned like normal as he woke Ed up, but he didn't poke him in the shoulder. He asked what Ed wanted for breakfast and didn't place the filled plate in front of Ed like usual. Instead, he leaned over from the other side of the table and put it down in the middle of the wooden surface, leaving it to Ed to pull it closer. He didn't roll up his sleeves to do the dishes, but pulled on some rubber gloves that reached to his elbows so he wouldn't get his wounded arm wet. On their way to HQ he wouldn't just walk closer to Ed when an oncoming pedestrian needed to get past them, but would let himself fall behind and walk after Ed until the sidewalk was clear again. And Ed couldn't hate him for it.

But it still hurt. The colonel would act perfectly normal towards him, but there were all these small things that kept some distance between them and destroyed the illusion. Mustang had lost his trust in Ed. There might have been a day when Havoc was right with saying that the colonel never believed Ed would hurt any of them, but these days were over now. Because selfish and stupid Edward Elric had failed again.

The other soldiers could sense something was wrong, but received no real answer, neither to questioning glances nor to voiced questions. Ed would just shake his head and bury his head in his arms and Mustang would only say "Just a bad dream, nothing more," before dismissing them with a tone that shut up any further questioning. Only Hawkeye dared to march into the colonel's private office after Mustang had retreated there. After a while the both of them left the office. Ed knew she was dragging the colonel to the infirmary to get his arm looked over.

It was too much for the boy. He excused himself and went to the men's bathroom where he splashed cold water into his face, trying to wash away his exhaustion and fear and every other evidence of what had taken place last night. Once he felt his face was clean enough he tried to let himself become numb. Easiest way to get through the rest of the day, and easiest way to avoid thinking that the other soldiers of the team might find out what he had done. He knew he couldn't take it if he lost their trust, too. He also knew he didn't deserve their trust, but he needed it because if there was no-one to help him, then how should he ever manage to get back on his feet and redeem himself?

But then, could he really force his presence onto them anymore? He was dangerous, uncontrollable. He had proved that yesterday. And he was useless to them because he knew he wouldn't manage to take on a mission at the moment and even though his helping with paperwork was nice for them, it wasn't exactly necessary. So there was no reason for him to stay that would outweigh the danger he brought upon them. He should just run and keep them safe. Search for a nice cave in the woods far away and live there, no contact with anybody, just some letters to tell Winry he was all right so she wouldn't cry. He tucked his red coat tighter around himself, dried his face that wasn't only wet from the water from the sink and left the men's facilities. Left HQ.

Ed didn't have an exact plan about where he was going. He just followed the streets in hope that at some point he would reach the end of the city. When he crossed the same street a second time though and realised that his subconsciousness had him running in circles because his heart still couldn't grasp the fact that it would be better if he stayed completely alone from now on, he ducked into the next alley, sat against a wall and buried his head in his arms.

He remained sitting there until it was almost completely dark, trying to make himself get up on his feet again and leave the city, but he was too exhausted, too tired of everything. But then he heard a car hitting the brakes hard.

"There he is!" the MP who exited the vehicle called out to his comrades. Edward's head shot up._ No! _What did they want? The MP made his way over to him and Edward panicked. He couldn't let them drag him back; he needed to stay away from everyone! He jumped to his feet and ran. Funny how he couldn't even convince himself to get up and make a single step forwards only a minute ago and now here he was racing away from the yelling MPs.

Edward dashed through the alleys, jumped over fences and whatever else came into his way. He saw more MPs and other military personnel and knew they were trying to corner him. His lungs burned as he tried to escape them all. But then he turned a corner and crashed right into one of the blue clad figures. He stumbled backwards one step, but caught himself and immediately tried to run past the officer. The next thing he knew his head snapped to the side from a well placed slap.

Blinking in confusion, he touched his stinging cheek and looked up at the officer.

"Don't you ever dare to run away again!" a panting and seething Roy Mustang hissed. "Do you know how worried you had us? I thought you were out here trying to kill yourself or do that damn transmutation again! Couldn't you just lock yourself in the bathroom to sulk?!"

Ed flinched from the tone of voice, but wasn't really listening. He could see the colonel's hands twitching yet Mustang didn't grab him by the collar to yell in his face properly like he would have if Ed had upset him that much two days ago. Instead he stayed almost three feet away from Ed and was satisfied with just yelling. Ed let his head drop and stared at the floor, not able to face the broken trust anymore, and Mustang finally ceased his angry lecture.

"Get in the car," the colonel ordered feebly, one hand pressed over his eyes, his voice sounding tired.

Edward did as he was told. Would the colonel take him to some mental ward now? Well, at least it would keep Mustang and the others safe if Ed was locked away, so the boy actually hoped for it.

Mustang got in and sat in the passenger's seat a minute later. He reached for the radio most military cars had in the front. Ed didn't notice that the colonel was calling the other search teams to thank them and tell them to go home because he had found Ed. He only noticed that Mustang was keeping a distance and wasn't in the back seat with him.

* * *

Finally, they reached the colonel's apartment. They had once again collected some take out on the way, but neither alchemist felt like eating. Mustang just left it in the kitchen and walked over to Ed who was huddled on the couch, the blanket tightly around him. The boy felt cold and tired and desperate.

"Mind if I sit?" the colonel asked calmly.

Ed felt a lump in his throat. Mustang was asking if he could sit on his own couch. Had he reduced the bossy colonel to this? He nodded, desperate for any kind of attention Mustang was still willing to give him. The colonel sat on the other end of the couch. He looked tired.

"Why did you run away?" he asked, trying to catch Ed's eye but the boy looked away and shook his head. Mustang sighed and scratched the side of his neck, like he just didn't know what else to do. He sat like this for another minute, sometimes opening his mouth like he wanted to say something but then decided against it and closing it again. In the end, Mustang stood, went to the kitchen and got a mug filled with water. He sat it on the coffee table next to the couch for Ed and looked at the curled up boy with tired eyes.

"I guess you won't talk today, huh? Well maybe if you had some sleep. I'll pester you again tomorrow, maybe then I'll even know what to say..." With that, the colonel turned and went to leave the room and Ed couldn't take it anymore. He scrambled off the couch and followed him.

He reached out and grabbed Mustang's shirt. The black haired man froze when Edward fisted the smooth fabric with his left hand. Slowly Ed stepped forward and rested his forehead against the right side of Mustang's back. The boy felt the colonel stiffen in surprise and insecurity and it made him grab the shirt even tighter. He hated to hear that his voice was so weak but he couldn't help it, he needed to say it, no matter how it sounded.

"I'm sorry, I never wanted to hurt you, I'm so sorry I cut your arm! Please, _please_, don't ever think I _wanted_ to do so!"

Ed felt the warm body his head was leaning against shift and brought his automail hand up to fist it in the colonel's shirt, too. He couldn't feel the body's warmth or the fabric with this hand but at least it would make it more difficult for Mustang to pull away.

"Please don't be afraid of me!"

Mustang's arm moved and Edward tensed and buried his face deeper in the colonel's back, waiting for the arm to push him away. But all Mustang did was very slowly and very tenderly put the arm around Edward's shoulders and turn as far as he could with his shirt gripped tight, until Ed was leaning against his side instead of his back.

"I'm not afraid of you. In fact I thought you were afraid of _me_. I stayed away from you because I didn't want you to feel cornered. I thought it would help if I gave you some room to calm down, I know you don't want to hurt anyone."

The boy slowly lifted his head and looked up to see the colonel give him a sad smile.

"I'm not very good with comforting people," Mustang admitted.

Ed just buried his face in Mustang's side again and slipped his arms around him.

"Just don't make them feel pushed away, that's all people want from you," he mumbled into the colonel's shirt.

Edward felt Mustang's arm tighten around him. "I'll remember that."

The boy nodded, and relished the warmth he felt for a moment, but then pulled away, remembering something. "I should go," he whispered.

Mustang hesitantly loosened his arm enough for Ed to be able to get away, but didn't let go completely. "What makes you think so?" he asked, thoughtfully staring in the air in front of him.

"I'm dangerous," Ed simply said.

Mustang snorted. "If you were dangerous you would have ripped me to pieces and used said pieces to fuel the transmutation. You're just an upset idiot."

"I hurt you!" Ed gripped Mustang's arm from where it was around his shoulders and pulled the sleeve up to reveal the bandage.

Mustang hissed in pain from the rough treatment of the arm, but shrugged again."I had it coming. I mean, if I hadn't panicked too I could have guessed what would happen if I grab you from behind in a panic, couldn't I?"

Ed hung his head and let go of Mustang's arm. He couldn't deny the fact that Mustang did have a warning when he first tried to turn his blade against his friends in the office.

"What if it happens again?" he asked quietly and shivered at the thought.

"It won't," Mustang stated firmly.

He stared at the colonel with big eyes. So there really was trust in him still? "How do you know?"

"It is said three is a special number. You failed with that transmutation three times. Don't you think you've learned your lesson?" Mustang asked with a raised eyebrow.

Edward clenched his fists and nodded. He would never touch that transmutation circle again. He would feel the watch with the two dates in his pocket and see Mustang's blood on his automail whenever he even thought about that array.

Mustang smiled. "Well, then you're neither dangerous nor do you need to go."

Ed just stared at him with wide eyes for a while, then leaned forward again and let the colonel hold him in their awkward side hug for a while longer, smiling into Mustang's shirt until he almost fell asleep standing and the older alchemist guided him back to the couch with a small chuckle and a warm, "Good night, Edward."


	15. Chapter 14 The classic: A Nightmare

**Thank you for the reviews! **

**I think it's a good thing I changed the rating to T, I now am less paranoid that I'll get reported**** :D**

**Chapter 14**

**The classic: A Nightmare**

**(Warning:** Nightmare holds slit throat, blood and ugly transmutation corpse. Not very graphic but if you don't want to read: skip italic part. Chapter can work without it**)**

_...So he clapped his hands, turned and leashed out with his blade. The blood was the first thing that made it through Ed's panicked and blurred vision. Dripping and red. It ran down from the neat cut in Mustang's throat, soaking the front of the uniform jacket. The Colonel made a choking sound before dropping to his knees. He lifted his head one last time and his gaze fell on Ed, and Ed felt his heart constrict. He wanted to die at the look in those black eyes. No anger, no blaming, no hate. Just utter shock and hurt._

_He stepped forward, trying to get to the colonel but Mustang fell forwards and was dead before he could reach him. Ed dropped to his knees and turned him around, screaming at him to get up again but his voice didn't seem to leave his mouth. Everything was too silent, Mustang was too silent. And blood was still running. Ed frowned._

_The blood was still warm. The body was still warm. All that was wrong with it was the cut in the neck. Such a little thing that needed to be fixed..._

_So he grabbed the blue uniform and started pulling, dragged him in the circle and brought his hands down. It glowed, finally the circle glowed!_

_But when the light was gone and the colonel sat up he wasn't right. His body was twisted and broken and he fell back to the ground in an undefinable heap, not able to work his body properly. Ed tried to run. He ran away from his mistake through the alleys of central until he bumped into a blue clad figure. He tried to run past it, but was grabbed by the collar and slammed against a wall. He stared at the remains of Roy Mustang's face._

"_You won't get away Fullmetal. Look at what you have done to me! First you kill me, and then you won't let me stay dead and make a monster out of me? Oh no, I put up with you long enough, I won't accept this mistake of yours!"_

_The once so smooth voice burned in his ears like fingernails scratching down a blackboard. The malformed hands grabbed him tighter and the bloodshot black eyes drilled into his fear-widened golden ones._

"_I'm sorry," Ed whispered, "I'm sorry..."_

"_Sorry doesn't help me you little brat. The only thing that would help is if you would at least fix your second mistake concerning me." The remains of Mustang took hold of his automail blade, lifting it so it lay against the half healed neck. "The dead are supposed to stay dead, Fullmetal."_

"_I can't, I can't..."_

"_Oh, why not? You did it once, so why not twice? You put me through _this_ and expect me to have mercy on you now? Kill me for good Fullmetal...let me have my peace." It smirked and grabbed his automail arm tighter. "That's an order."_

_He wanted to scream as he felt his blade being pushed down but he couldn't. He could only close his eyes and try to push the dead body off him as it fell forwards and soaked him with blood..._

Edward could feel himself waking. He was trashing around, trying to get rid of the blood on him and leave it behind in the world of nightmares. But just when he was about to open his eyes and stop flailing, wetness splashed over his arm.

Edward froze, feeling the liquid tickling down his arm, seeping his shirtsleeve. No, that couldn't be, the nightmare was over, had to be over, there shouldn't be any more blood! He couldn't have killed the colonel! The boy jumped off the couch, but the wetness on his arm didn't leave.

He ran for the bathroom. Blood, he had to get rid of the blood, then everything would be right again, had to be! Pulling the shirt off, he threw it away from him and turned the water on. Not bothering to get out of his pants, he pulled the shower curtain close to shut the world out and curled up underneath the shower spray. Shutting down every brain process, he just focused on the water that would wash away his sin.

* * *

He didn't know how long he had been sitting at the bottom of the tub, water raining down on him, when there was a knock at the bathroom door. The sharp sound echoed through his mind, pulling him out of his shell even though he struggled to stay numb. He curled in on himself even more.

"Fullmetal?"

NO, it was back, it was back! He pressed his forehead against his knees and put his arms around his head, trying to hide himself under the limbs.

"Okay that's it, I'm coming in!"

Ed flinched, his breath hitching. He heard the door opening and closing and then there was a silhouette behind the shower curtain. He shivered, but glanced up from underneath his arms and squinted. The silhouette looked normal...

"Is everything alright? You've been in here for quite some time."

And the voice was smooth like always, it even held some warmth and concern. Was it a trap, could the _thing_ act? If even a little bit of the real Mustang was still within the monster, then it sure could. The colonel knew how to suppress emotions, so the monster should be able to make him think he was safe too...

He looked down at his automail. Should he get ready to defend himself? No. Never again. The only one who deserved this blade slicing through his skin was Ed himself. He would die before raising it against a friend again. Even if said friend was now a monster. A monster he had created.

He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for his fate.

"Okay, if you don't answer me now, I'll just assume that you forgot to turn off the shower and went back to sleep, which means I'll pull that curtain away in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...now."

Ed bit his lip as he heard the curtain being pulled away. A long moment of horror-filled silence.

"Holy shit, Fullmetal!" Mustang reached out to close the tap, hissing when the far too hot water met his skin. That got a reaction out of Ed. He jumped and reached for the faucet to turn the water on again. No water meant blood and blood meant his nightmare was real.

Once the wet element started to rain down on him again, he finally dared to look up at what he hoped was nothing that proved the cleaning water wrong. The Mustang standing over the tub, staring at him in shock looked indeed just like his normal self. No malformed limbs, no blood, no monster. Ed felt relieved tears join the shower water while trailing down his cheeks.

Mustang seemed to regain his composure again. He even folded his arms in front of his chest, a stern expression on his face.

"Okay, let's make a deal: You can stay in the shower if you talk to me and at least allow me to turn the temperature down. If you don't accept, then you leave me with no choice but to drag you out of there by force, 'cause I'm not going to let you continue this! Choose wisely."

Ed felt his heart warm. There was the bossy colonel he knew. No monster. The water did a good job with the blood. "Deal," Ed agreed quietly.

Mustang nodded and reached for the faucet. Ed felt himself relax. Be it because the colder water soothed his reddened, and partly starting to blister skin, or because Mustang still looked like himself and stayed true to his word and let him stay in the shower, Ed couldn't tell.

"So... what's wrong?" Mustang asked, as he closed the lid of the toilet and sat on it.

Ed opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn't want to speak and didn't know how to without sounding crazy, but he knew he had no choice because the colonel would take him away from the safety of the running water if he acted against the deal. But how was he supposed to explain?

"In my experience, sitting in the shower for an hour in the middle of the night with the water hot enough to burn your skin means you've had a nightmare and are trying to wash it away. Is it that?"

Edward stared at the colonel. Mustang's voice was uncharacteristically quiet. The older alchemist was leaning forward so he could rest his elbows on his knees and his chin on his interlaced fingers while he looked at the opposite wall. Though now he slowly turned back to Edward, waiting for an answer. Still a little surprised, Ed nodded.

"Care to tell me what it was about or at least what you want to wash away?"

Edward looked down at his hands. "Blood," he whispered. "There was so much blood."

Mustang nodded slowly, encouraging Ed to go on, and somehow Ed felt that he could, at least a little. There was something in Mustang's eyes that told him that the colonel would neither laugh, nor judge nor call him crazy but could understand Ed very well.

"Usually...when I have a bad dream it...it ends when I wake up, but this time...this time it was still there, the blood was still there, it splashed all over me! All over me!" He started shaking. "And it was yours..."

Mustang stood and picked up Ed's discarded night shirt. "There is no blood Ed," he said with a gentle voice and held up the shirt. He left the room and Ed was about to scream, scream for the colonel to come back and not abandon him because he thought he was crazy, but Mustang was back already. "And there is no blood on the couch either." He held up an empty mug. "It felt wet because you knocked over the water I put on the coffee table for you."

Ed stared at the mug, then at Mustang. Water? The colonel couldn't have put any water there, Ed killed him. The monster was toying with him. "I slit your throat," he told the colonel. "You're dead."

Mustang raised an eyebrow and his hand to his pulse. "I think I am pretty much alive," he said with a small smirk.

Ed frantically shook his head "I brought you back. Now you are toying with me for revenge."

"You didn't kill me. This was not deadly." The colonel pulled the sleeve of his light blue pyjama shirt back and showed Ed his arm. The boy stared at the bandage around it. That was right. He had slashed just the arm, just the arm! Slowly, Mustang came over to the tub, kneeling next to it.

"Hold out your flesh hand," he ordered.

Edward hesitantly did as he was told. Mustang carefully took the boy's hand and placed two of Ed's fingers on his unscathed neck. Ed jumped when he felt the colonel's pulse. He pressed his fingers a little harder against the pale skin, taking in every small _thump _he could feel with relief.

"See, I'm alive and my throat is just fine," Mustang said. "There's no need for you to wash blood away. Nightmares are just that: nightmares. They can never follow us into reality. I don't think you're crazy because of this though, because the aftermath of something is much worse than the happening itself, quite often. It's okay to be distressed and need time to process what you have dreamed about. However, it's not okay to hurt yourself because of it. If you think it helps to shower, please use water that doesn't cook you alive."

Edward blinked, confused about Mustang's calm, gentle words. He was tempted to reach out and hold the colonel next to the tub so he could feel the pulse a while longer when Mustang stood, but he felt that would be awkward so he let him go. The colonel fetched one of the few really fluffy towels he possessed. He held it out towards Ed and slowly the boy turned off the water.

For a moment Ed was very still and tense, waiting for the blood to come back and for Mustang's form to change into the ugly result of a human transmutation, but everything stayed as it was. He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. Mustang patiently waited for him to get out of the tub and then draped the towel around Ed's shoulders.

"I'll go fetch you some dry night clothes, so get dry," the colonel said.

Ed nodded and slowly started to dry himself off. The fabric of the towel bit into the damaged skin on his shoulder. He pressed his lips together and made sure it didn't touch his shoulder again.

He felt cold, so he was still huddled in the towel when Mustang came back with one of the t-shirt and shorts combinations Edward called his sleepwear. The colonel took one look at Ed's exposed shoulder and went over to the bathroom cabinet. He rifled through the cabinet in a way that indicated that he actually knew exactly where the thing he was searching for was but was just keeping himself busy so Edward could change without feeling uncomfortable.

"Wait with the shirt," he instructed while pulling out a small pot.

Ed just changed into dry pants and nervously held the shirt in his hands. The colonel put the small pot next to the sink and came over to Ed with a smaller and smoother towel than the big and fluffy one he had given Ed before. He reached out but waited for Ed to nod his consent before he began to very carefully dry Ed's shoulder.

"The skin seems more irritated than really burned, good thing the water here doesn't get _that_ hot," the colonel absent-mindedly mumbled. Then he walked over to the sink and grabbed the small pot. He held it up for Ed to see. "This ointment should soothe the skin and help it heal. You wanna put it on yourself or shall I?"

Ed held up his automail hand with a contrite expression.

"Oh, yes, sorry," Mustang said, realising fast that applying ointment with automail wasn't very smart and reaching to your left shoulder with your left hand was a little difficult as well. The colonel got a small cotton ball from his first aid kit and very gingerly started to put the ointment on Ed's blistered shoulder and for good measure on every reddened part of his back. It stung a little for the first few seconds put afterwards the cooling substance was a blessing.

"There you go," Mustang said, looking his work over.

"Thanks," Ed mumbled with a shy smile.

"You're welcome. But please don't do it again," the colonel answered, his voice slightly scolding. He smiled when Ed nodded. Then, he yawned. "Well, let's try and catch some last hours of sleep, all right?"

Ed followed him back in the living room. He sat on the couch and watched as Mustang went over to the kitchen and threw the cotton ball in the waste bin.

"I think you can put your shirt on now, the ointment should have dried," he said, slightly amused about how Ed was still awkwardly clutching his sleep t-shirt in his hands.

Ed carefully pulled the shirt on. Thankfully, his skin didn't protest. Whatever Mustang had put on his shoulder was really good stuff. He lay down and pulled his blanket up to his chin when Mustang made to cross the living room to go to his bedroom.

Edward's gaze fell on the bookcases on the opposite wall. "Colonel?" he inquired, his voice barely audible.

"Hmhm?" Mustang hummed his questioning answer.

"Why...was that array... in your book?" He couldn't see Mustang but he could hear him stop in his tracks. For a moment Ed thought the older alchemist wouldn't answer but then Mustang said, "You scratch dates in your watch. I put notes in my book."

Ed sat up to stare at Mustang in shock, scanning his body for evidence. "Did you...did you...?!"

"No, I didn't. Hughes slapped some sense into me before I got too deep into it," Mustang admitted calmly. Then a sad smile crossed his face. "Though now that he isn't here anymore I had been fairly tempted to try again. Ironic, huh? I want to bring him back so he can slap me and stop me from bringing him back."

Edward looked at Mustang who was still standing there, smiling his sad little smile at the still slightly chalk smudged floor, and clenched his fists.

"You stopped me. I'll stop you," the boy said with resolve.

Mustang chuckled. "Equivalent exchange, huh?" He paused thoughtfully. "Well, that's what we alchemists do." The colonel became serious again and walked over to Edward, holding out his hand. "Deal. You can slap me if I do something stupid."

Ed shook his head and pushed the hand away. "No, I won't slap you." He grinned at Mustang's dumbfounded expression. "I'll dump water on you; that's what renders you harmless for real!"

The colonel slumped, sighed and rolled his eyes. "I should have known your _little _brain would come up with something like that."

Edward glared at the colonel. Mustang retorted with his smug smirk.

The world seemed to be a bit better.


	16. Chapter 15 Rainclouds on a sunny day

**A wise author named Kleshae taught me that suns are happy (because they're bright and beam) and rainclouds are sad (because they cry). That's the reason for this chapter's title.**

**Thank you all for your reviews :)**

**Chapter 15**

**Rainclouds on a sunny day**

Edward woke up to bright sunlight filling in through the living room window. He relished the warm shine it provided for a while before wondering why it looked like it was already noon. Today was Friday, meaning a work day. Did he sleep in? No, he had an alarm clock called Colonel Bastard that would poke him until he was awake, so it was impossible that he had slept in. Unless Mustang slept in, too.

He sat up, debating whether he should knock on the colonel's bedroom door, when he realised that his silver pocket watch had been placed on the coffee table next to the couch. Once again it had been utilised as a paperweight. Rolling his eyes good-naturedly he took the note that was clamped underneath it and unfolded the paper.

_I slept in so much that Hawkeye will shoot me, so because of damage control I can't wait for you to get ready too. Make yourself some breakfast whenever you wake up, but please don't burn down the house while cooking. The bastards from the insurance company already charge me enough because they consider me a fire hazard, I don't even want to imagine what they would want me to pay if there really was a fire in my apartment. Anyway, when you're done with breakfast and getting ready call the office for someone to pick you up._

_Sincerely,_

_Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, probably shot dead by now_

Ed couldn't help but grin a bit. The idiot colonel didn't have time to wake him up but took the time to write a note? He couldn't have been more obvious about letting Ed sleep in on purpose. He was a bit grumpy that the colonel thought he was such a kid that he needed his ten hours of sleep every night, but on the other hand he appreciated Mustang's subtle ways of concern. As long as the colonel was still caring for him, Edward knew that even though he had screwed up a lot (especially recently), there was still hope for him to get better.

So, Ed put the note with the others in his journal and started to get ready. He made himself breakfast without burning the house down, and then walked over to the phone on Mustang's desk. He knew the number of the office by heart but when he started to dial, he paused. Why should he bother Mustang and his team to send someone to pick him up? Mustang and he usually walk to the office in the morning and the weather was just fine, so why not walk now, too? He placed the phone back down, grabbed his things and set off.

Edward walked down the streets to Central HQ, though after he had walked half of the way, he frowned. There was a group of MPs running over to an alley not far away. A single MP was already standing at the entrance of the alley, waving for the others to come over fast. Ed pondered whether he should ask what was going on. They were shutting off the alley like they did with crime scenes. Maybe he should go and try to help them out somehow? His curiosity took over so he walked over and flashed his silver pocket watch to them.

He should have stopped when he saw how green their faces were. He should have stopped when they only very reluctantly let him pass. But he was stupid and ignored the signs. Now he was standing in front of a corpse. A corpse left behind by the serial killer. A corpse that looked very much like the results of human transmutation. His stomach churned.

"Sir?" one of the MPs carefully asked.

Edward ignored him. He swayed and stumbled backwards. Eventually he just dropped to the ground. Then he knelt there, staring at the remains of a face that was twisted in pain. He had the feeling those dead eyes stared right back at him. Would this have been the pain-filled, desperate look Al and his mother would have given him had they had the chance to, had he not transmuted their eyes into those inhuman, red glowing _things_?

Panic welled up in him, but he forcefully pushed it down. If only one tiny bit of his despair made it through his defences now he would snap. Ed knew that, so he gave everything he had to keep it down. But with all his energy used to hold up his shield of numbness there was nothing left to think about how he could get away from everything. So he just knelt, still and unmoving, waiting for whatever would happen with him.

Someone lifted him up, one arm under his knees, the other around his back. He still didn't dare let his shield crumble though. Whoever carried him turned away from the corpse, breaking the eye contact of it with Ed, but the boy still didn't dare relax. He felt the chest he was leaning against vibrate as the voice spoke orders. Now he knew who had picked him up. And he knew it had happened before.

Edward had sometimes briefly wondered how he had moved from the basement, where he had transmuted Al, to Risembool where he first started to become aware of things again. But it had always hurt too much to think about, so he had ignored the nagging question. Now though he knew the answer. He had been sitting there, oblivious to the world, just like now, until someone who was all the way yelling orders to his subordinates to stop them from coming down there had picked him up. And when his foggy mind had registered who it was he had only said two words.

"Burn it."

"Not today, Edward," Mustang said calmly. "This is not Al."

Edward nodded against the blue uniform jacket. Yes, this wasn't Al.

Al was now in the urn Mustang had brought to Risembool together with Ed.

The memories crashed down onto him and he tried to curl up in himself, almost causing Mustang to drop him. Edward couldn't care less; he probably would have welcomed the pain of falling down on the hard concrete. It would surly distract him from all the other pain that threatened to tear his chest apart. The colonel leaned forward to place Ed in the car just like he had done back then before he walked back down into the basement to grant Ed's wish and burn the corpse, bringing back an urn transmuted from the remains of the armour and filled with the ashes of what should have been Al's new body if the damned transmutation had worked out.

"I'll be back in a moment. Hawkeye, look after him," he had said then and said so now. And Ed frantically shook his head, grabbing his sleeve. If the colonel left now it would be like a setback in time and he knew he wouldn't survive that. His heart constricted painfully and he couldn't breathe. Then there were hands on his shoulders and black eyes staring into his golden ones.

"Count to ten," Mustang said, calmly and reassuringly.

And Ed focused on counting. He knew it would help, otherwise Mustang wouldn't have asked him to do so, right?

"Now do it again. Try to count slow and breathe in time with it."

And Ed did. The first two intakes of breath were a struggle, but then it started working out.

"Again."

He counted, his brain regaining the ability to think logically enough to understand that Mustang hadn't left, that there was a difference between now and then. It was not the same day, he would not have to see that urn again, and he would not have to frantically try to be somewhere else with his mind whilst they buried it next to his mother.

"Good. Now close your eyes and count to one hundred."

He could feel Mustang's hands vanish from his shoulders and knew the colonel was rushing over to the crime scene to have a look at it as he needed to. He clenched his fists but didn't panic again. As long as Mustang was back when his eyes opened again he would be all right. He knew that the colonel knew this. He had to, because his hands were back on Ed's shoulders at ninety-nine. Now they could both pretend he had never needed to go back and look at the corpse.

"Can you breathe right now?" the older alchemist asked. The younger nodded.

"Good. You think you can take it if we go back to HQ instead of the apartment?"

Ed nodded again. He knew the colonel was needed with the military now and he couldn't keep him all to himself. And he wouldn't want to. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if more people had to die in this gruesome way because he kept Mustang from investigating. So he shut all thinking down, intending to wait for his turn to get the colonel's attention.

* * *

The whole team was assembled in Mustang's private office. They all tried to get Ed out off his shell first thing when they entered, but Ed ignored them all. They needed to think about their current case. So he stayed alert in case they said something about the murder that might lead to him thinking of something helpful, but every other thought process or sign that he was someone with a mind and a soul simply didn't exist. For one, the others wouldn't stop bugging him if there was a sign that he might react to them, and second he just couldn't bear all the pain he knew was to come, right now. He needed time and help. But neither was available at the moment.

"I think he put the murder as our first priority," Mustang finally understood and said, combing his fingers through his hair with a sigh after watching every one of his subordinates fail in their attempts to get Ed to participate in life again. It was rare for him to display defeat like that while on duty and therefore unusual enough to make it through Ed's bubble and surprise the boy. Did the others think of him as their priority right now? Couldn't be, he was a dog, a tool, he shouldn't be more important than their work. They should know that, they were tools themselves, used and tossed around to the higher ups contends.

"Anyway, I'll handle it later. Right now it seems like we can't do anything but our jobs." Mustang straightened his back, falling back into the behaviour of the seemingly invincible commanding officer with practised ease. "As you all know I made a phone call to someone I know from a safe line the day before yesterday. Fuery, you already know what I talked about with this person so please go and make sure no one is eavesdropping."

"Yes, sir." Fuery vanished out the door.

Mustang waited a moment, and then began. "I called the state alchemist who has been asked to research the book. This information must not get out." He paused to let the importance of this information sink in. "He was the only one of us state alchemists smart enough not to follow orders and run away before they used him as a weapon. His name was Marcoh and he is listed as a deserter. If they find him they'll probably shoot him. So keep your mouth shut."

He waited for the others to salute and give a "Yes, sir!" before continuing. "He spoke with four alchemists about that book. Major Armstrong and I gained the same amount of information because we talked to him at the same time. Then there was the Freezing Alchemist Isaac McDougal who was killed by Führer Bradley, and the Crimson Lotus Alchemist Zolf Kimbley who is in prison right now."

There was some silence. "Not exactly helpful, is it?" Havoc finally asked.

"Well, unless Major Armstrong or I have developed a split personality or McDougal came back from the dead or Kimbley broke out, no I think it isn't helpful. Though I'll have someone from investigations check Kimbley nonetheless. He is crazy but not stupid and unlike Garber he likes to kill."

"Shall I see to it that someone will be sent to investigate?" Hawkeye asked, ever the efficient worker.

"Give me a minute and I'll set up a paper with the order and some fake story about why I think it could be Kimbley."

"Yes, sir." Hawkeye and Mustang exchanged a look that said that both of them wished they would finally get the whole case done before Mustang dismissed his team to go do whatever they were supposed to be doing. The colonel reached for some form and began filling it, halting thoughtfully for a moment as he thought about an explanation that would not involve Marcoh. When he finished, he grabbed the paper and left the private office. He came back without the paper but with two mugs filled with steaming liquid and set those on the small table in front of the couch before taking a seat next to Ed.

"Case meeting is done. Will you stop bottling everything up inside now?" he inquired, sounding almost hopefully. Ed looked up to meet his eyes. The colonel just stared back for a while, reading what was offered to him. Then he leaned his head back against the couch and sighed. "I'm probably a hypocrite to talk like this... but one day keeping it all inside will be more painful than letting it out now. I recommend you speak with more than just a look."

Ed stared into the air as he, strangely detached from everything, thought about Mustang's words. Should he really just let it go for once? Risk shattering? But then again, what was there that wasn't shattered already? The colonel next to him moved and took one of the cups on the small table. Edward watched him drink from his coffee as he patiently waited for Ed to decide, and the boy came to his conclusion; Even if he shattered, he had someone to pick up the shards afterwards.

So he finally let the pain of loss take him and started to cry and sob and scream and let the world know just how unfair it was.


	17. Chapter 1 Brat and Bastard

**Wow, I never thought this story would reach 100 reviews, but now there are even more than 100. I feel like dancing around my room screaming: "I'm the queen of the world"**

**Thank you all very much for your support and reviews! x3**

**Chapter 16**

**Brat and Bastard**

Edward had started to cry silently, and then had started to sob and shake. After that he had screamed into the couch pillow, drenching it in tears and hitting it over and over with his fists until his energy was all drained and he was back to sobbing. Now the sobbing had subsided as well and left him crying silently again.

There had been a time when he would have died from embarrassment before having a breakdown like this in front of anyone, especially Roy Mustang. But during those times, his problems had all been _insignificant_ enough that he could keep them to himself and he still had some energy and hope left. But Al's death had been the last straw and now he just couldn't take it anymore.

One might think that he didn't mind Mustang's presence because he was just too desperate to care about it, but actually he did care, a lot. Both alchemists were neither good at showing their concern for one another nor at comforting, but they both knew it and so they could still decipher the other's behaviour.

During Ed's outburst, the colonel did nothing but sit there, calmly sipping his coffee. For a stranger this might seem like he was nothing but a heartless bastard who didn't care in the slightest about Edward, but Ed knew that if this was the case then the colonel would have just left the room or maybe even laughed at him. But Mustang didn't leave nor laugh. Mustang sat there and waited, for two reasons.

Reason number one was that it wouldn't make any sense to recommend that Ed should just vent and let all his feelings out for once, only to stop him and calm him down with comfort half the way when he still hadn't had all of it out of his system. And Ed was grateful for that because this way he could allow himself to let it all crash down on him for once, and face every bit of his despair without having to fear being unable to get out of it again once he was in it all. With Mustang waiting to help him out, he could jump into the river of tears and know he wouldn't drown because once he had explored it and faced it he would be pulled out and saved.

Reason number two was that Mustang seemed to know exactly that it would have never been his place to comfort, or even get to see a crying Ed if it wasn't for the sheer gravity of the situation. And so, the colonel sat still, giving Ed the chance to pretend that he had never been there at all so Ed could compose himself again before facing the colonel and this way save the pride Mustang still seemed to think he had. This behaviour meant a lot to Ed because if Mustang believed he still had some pride to save it meant that for the colonel there was still some of the old Ed left, who could stand back up and walk on.

And that's why Ed didn't mind his breakdown in front of the colonel at all. He could understand why Mustang just sat there and he could understand that the colonel wouldn't think any less of him if he finally succumbed to his grief about Al for once. So when he had calmed down enough to be back to crying silently, and Mustang finally put down his cup of coffee, he felt no bashfulness and leaned against the colonel's side to get the comfort Mustang had patiently waited to give. The colonel wordlessly put his arms around him and held him close and Ed leaned his head against his chest and let the warmth he felt dry up his tears.

Edward couldn't recall the last time he had been held like this but he knew it had been his mother and he remembered the feeling of safety. He couldn't hear the soothing sound of a heartbeat for the fabric of the colonel's uniform was too thick to allow something so human to get through the blue clothes that marked him as the state's tool, but when he concentrated on the rhythm of Mustang's breathing, it was enough to calm Ed's own heart. Closing his eyes, the boy allowed himself to relax and feel the wonderful comfort of leaning onto and being held by someone who cared for him.

Ed was tired now, but it was a good kind of tired. It was the comfortable kind you get when you have had a hard day but archived something in the end. And Ed had archived some peace with his mind. He wasn't completely free of the feeling of guilt and the loss of Al was still painful and filled him with sorrow, but it wasn't unbearable anymore. Now that he had allowed himself to explode he no longer thought he could snap at any moment. And safely cradled in Mustang's arms he didn't feel alone, he now knew that the black haired man could take the problems Ed would bring with him and help him through them.

The colonel was a stubborn man who didn't mind to tactically withdraw when necessary but would never completely give up. He might not be the best when it came to comforting and Ed was sure that the both of them might stumble about mistakes on either side in the future, but he knew the older alchemist wouldn't stop trying. He would get back on his feet just like he believed Ed could still do. And that's why he decided it wasn't so bad to lean onto Mustang from time to time.

He was by no means a replacement and he didn't fill the hole Al had left, but the damn pyromaniac had managed to build a fire right next to it so the shadows in the hole didn't seem so dark anymore and the good memories could be seen once again.

Ed's tears finally stopped and he fell asleep snuggled up to someone who he once thought he would only get as close to as a fist to the face.

* * *

"...-ey're so cute, I wish I had a camera!"

"Shut up they'll kill us if they hear you say such things!"

"This is like waking up a dragon, I've got a feeling we'll be fried."

Ed stirred and blinked his eyes open as he listened to the hushed voices of Colonel Mustang's subordinates. They were standing in a half circle in front of the couch, obviously not sure about how they should wake the two alchemists without getting killed for witnessing a scene that was rather cute but not meant to be witnessed. And Ed could understand their fear because while he didn't mind snuggling up to the colonel when there was no one else around, getting caught in that position was quite embarrassing. He felt the urge to make sure none of the witnesses made it outside.

"But we can't leave them sleeping here, working hours are over..." Fuery just said.

"Yeah but I'm sure they won't mind and- oh, Ed is awake, we did our job, let's run!" Havoc squeaked and turned to flee the office, the others hot on his heels.

Ed blinked again and stared after them, baffled. Then, a rather annoyed Hawkeye marched into the room. She realised Ed was awake and smiled. "I'm sorry, I tried to keep these immature idiots in check but they just had to sneak in under the pretence that they wanted to wake you for the end of working hours."

Ed blushed as he carefully slipped out from underneath Mustang's arm and scooted a bit away from the colonel. Then, he turned to the clock and noticed that indeed work time was over. He looked back to Hawkeye, surprised and confused. The lieutenant smiled a little wider.

"The two of you have been under a lot of stress recently and the colonel worked so well while you were filing away his papers that he was for once ahead in his paperwork, so I decided to let you sleep. Though now, I think it's time to wake you. Or at least the colonel, you are obviously awake already." She then cleared her throat and in a loud and stern manner said: "Sir."

The until now peacefully sleeping colonel jumped. "Ah, Lieutenant! I'll go back to work, I didn't fall asleep!" he immediately yelped out of some instinct he probably developed over years of procrastinating and shirking paperwork. Hawkeye raised one slender blonde eyebrow. The colonel slumped. "Okay, so I _did_ fall asleep," he admitted sheepishly.

"And today I don't mind sir." Mustang's jaw dropped at the lieutenant's words. She simply smiled and told them to get ready for their ride back to Mustang's apartment.

The colonel finally regained his composure and stretched his arms above his head. "You know, if it wasn't weird I'd say you can sleep on me all day long if it gets me out of paperwork," he said with a wry grin. Ed rolled his eyes at him but smiled and got to his feet. They collected their things and followed Hawkeye out to the parking lot.

* * *

Today's drive was not interrupted by a stop at a restaurant. Ed found out why when Mustang changed out of his uniform and started rummaging around the kitchen. He couldn't help but stare incredulously.

"Don't look at me like that!" the older alchemist grumbled. "Just because I prefer take-out doesn't mean I don't know at least the basics of cooking. I mean what if I'm stuck at home because of really bad weather or because I'm ill? I can't ask my poor lieutenant to look after me then, she might not act like it but she does have a life outside of working for me." He grinned "And it impresses most women when you know how to cook. Not that I would take them home, they get to clingy if I do," he added thoughtfully.

Ed rolled his eyes but watched as Mustang proceeded to put ingredients together. The colonel was an alchemist and you could see it in the way he cooked. Alchemists would study their material, then carefully put the array together like they were taught to but then wait with activating it until they had added their own touch to it or analysed it for a way to make it better. So Mustang studied his ingredients, then put them together according to the recipe but waited with putting them on the stove until he had tasted some of it with a spoon and decided that it could use some more salt.

"So, do you feel any better now?" the colonel finally asked while he watched the sauce for their pasta cook.

Ed knew Mustang was talking about his breakdown. He looked down at the table he was sitting at, contemplating. Did he feel better? Yes he did. "Lighter," he mumbled. "Like some weight was taken off me. Not all but a lot."

Mustang nodded, absent-mindedly stirring the sauce. "That's good. I was afraid you would fall and not get up again someday if you continued carrying it all alone."

"Won't it make _you_ fall if you take weight from me? I'm sure you got enough to carry yourself." Ed retorted, watching the colonel as he calmly shrugged and smirked.

"I can carry some more, I'm bigger than you."

Ed fumed but decided to postpone his revenge for all the short jokes he hadn't reacted to.

"I'm serious, I don't want to burden you," he stated quietly, afraid that the colonel might take his words to heart and stop looking out for him, but unable to be selfish enough to keep them to himself.

Mustang turned and pointed the spoon he had used for the sauce at Edward. "Don't you ever think you're a burden to me," he said firmly. "I admit it's sometimes hard to look after you but it's no burden because I get a reward. I get to see that I helped someone back on his feet. I'm so used to bringing people down, you don't know how good it feels to finally help someone get up, because that's all I ever wanted: To make this twisted world a bit better. So I partly help you because I'm that selfish but I don't mind admitting it if it helps you understand that you are no burden to me."

The colonel turned back to the stove, his bangs obscuring his eyes as he stirred the sauce but Ed could see the firm line of his mouth. Mustang didn't like admitting personal things, but he did it nonetheless and Ed felt proud that he was worth the insight of the colonel's mind. He felt bad for pressing on but he just had to know. "You said partly. What's the other reason?" he asked, barely audible.

Mustang took his time, taking the sauce pot off the heat and checking the noodles before answering.

"I'm not sure, but I guess you little brat somehow managed to become quite dear to me."

Ed felt like his eyes would pop out of his head any moment as he stared at the colonel. The black haired man spoke so nonchalantly that the not very flattering formulated sentence could be taken as a joke, but his body language betrayed him. Mustang spoke the truth.

And Ed couldn't help but grin like a kid who got a present. Warmth spread through him and for the first time since Al's death he felt truly contempt and happy. He watched Mustang tense and forcefully relax as he stared at the food while he waited for Ed to say something.

Finally, Ed's grin turned into a small but still very happy smile. "I'm not sure either, but the same might go for you, stupid bastard," he admitted quietly. There was a moment of wonderful amicable silence in which they both knew that the other had a smile on his lips even though they couldn't see the other's face.

Then they both decided that they had had enough emotional turbulence for the day and the first tried to joke. Surprisingly it was Ed. "Maybe your cooking will decide it."

"Well your stomach is certainly bigger than your brain so that might happen." Mustang grinned and picked up the banter.

"My stomach needs to supply a genius with energy, of course it's big."

"If all your energy goes to your brain it would explain why there is none to make you grow."

"Well I'm rather smart than just freakishly tall like you!"

The colonel acted like he had never heard that and continued his musings. "If you ever grow I will ask you if you feel less intelligent and then I will know."

"I bet I'll be taller than you and then you get all your short jokes back!"

Mustang put a plate filled with delicious looking pasta in front of Ed. "Eat your food before you run out of energy and your brain shuts down, then we might find out someday."

Ed watched him as he sat down too, and then very quietly said: "Someday might be a long time from now."

Mustang blinked, then got the meaning and smirked a bit. "I'll have to start charging you for your room then." His smirk turned into a smile, "But then you can have it as long as you want."

Ed stared at him. "As long as I want?"

Mustang nodded and started to dig into his pasta. "We'll get furniture tomorrow."

He almost choked on his food when Ed attempted to squeeze the life out of him with a hug.


End file.
